


A perfect imperfect match

by Cattuesmountain



Category: Reign (TV)
Genre: Adventure & Romance, F/M, Forced Marriage, Love/Hate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-06-25 21:08:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 41
Words: 56,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19753855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cattuesmountain/pseuds/Cattuesmountain
Summary: Struggling with his reign, young King Charles must reach to drastic means to prevent the interference of his mother Catherine. And who would be more suitable than his Lord Chancellor, Stephane Narcisse.





	1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Unfortunately „Reign" isn't mine, otherewise we would have a nice little Catherine spin-off.  
Pairing: Queen Catherine/Lord Narcisse  
Rating: NC-17  
Timeline: set after Season 3 – my own interpretation of how things could have turned out. I know that marrying Catherine off never happend – but that's the magic about fanfiction, right? Everything is possible! Comment: As english isn't my first language – please have mercy on me ... 

A perfect imperfect match

Flickering candlelight dipped the French throne room into dim light. An unpleasant breeze of fresh air set a varity of candle flames into a wild dance and generated angry shadows on the walls. At this late hour there were only few people present and a massiv storm was gathering over their heads. One that didn't threatend to unload itself under the open sky but directly in between the stone walls of this very room.  
"My son, if you surrender to these insolent demands that makes you seem weak. And weakness is something we cannot permit to ourselfes. Never."  
"Mother! This is soley the decision of your king – my decision. I can no longer endure your permanent interference. Your ministration crushes me!"  
The young king spat out these words and looked at his mother with such an icy glare that made Catherine de' Medici shiver. For the fraction of a second the Queen Mother closed her eyes, then she regally looked up to her son. Her very own mixture of defiance and ostinacy was written all over her face.

"Charles, there is not one person at this court who is more concerned about your welfare and the preservation of the power of the Valois family then me. You must not..."  
Before his mother could even finish her sentence, the pale young man jumped up from his throne and hurried down the few steps that separated him from his mother. He draw himself up to his full hight, towering threateningly over a much smaller Catherine. In his gaze lay not only irritation, but openly displayed outrage and fury. With unnaturally widened eyes he glared at his counterpart, clearly angered by her behaviour. Now the attention of all persons present in the throne room were fixed on the fumished boy who tried to stare down his own mother.  
"No mother. I have to do nothing at all. But it's you who have to finally understand that I am the one who reigns now. I'm not Francis and for sure I'm not father whom you could maipulate at will. I do not carry the power of the Valois on my shoulders, I AM the power! And you are no longer regent. You are merely the woman who gave me life and it's finally time that someone puts you in your place!"

With a stoic calmness that could force a weaker man to his knees, the queen-mother raised her chin and prized her son with a warning glare.  
"You're speaking about power, Charles. A power under which you threaten to break. And I will not stand idly like this. Yes, the burden of the crown was imposed upon you way too early, and my heart aches at the thought of the burden of your shoulders, shoulders that are still so terribly young. But that's exactly why I stand by your side, loyal as well as concerned about your well-being and the well-being of France. For who would be better able to stand by you than I am? Everything I do, I do it for you, for the inheritance of the Valois. You are my son…"  
"BE QUIET! Be quiet at last. I'm tired, mother! I'm tired of being used like a marionette by you, I'm tired that you always think you know everything better, and I'm pretty tired of you and your self-complacency. Your sly schemes, your tiresome power struggles against me, against my lord chancellor. Now it's time mother. Time to show you your limits. Father could not, and God knows how often he tried. Francis, my tenderhearted brother, could not do so either. However, believe me as I am standing here, I will no longer accept your pretentious behavior. This time, you will not wiggle out of it or wrap me around your finger with appeasing words. Now this comes to an end."

What followed was a breathless silence while the words of their king direfully hung in the air. The extent of this threat was beyond anyones reach. Catherine, who was shocked at her son's public adjudication, began to speak up with a certainly no less quick-tempered reply but was stoppend when the lord chancellor put his hand on her arm in a restraining gesture. Stephane Narcisse who had silently followed his young king's outbreak, cleared his throat audibly. Fascinated his gaze had wandered between Charles and Catherine during their heated battle of words, but now he had decided to intervene.

"Your Majesty, I understand your annoyance like no other, as I was already at the aim of an ingenious plan of your mother's revenge, however I ask you to refrain from a too harsh and imprudent act." Catherine, who hissed at Stephane's words indignatly, shook his hand from her arm and gave her former lover a deeply contemptuous look.  
"Do not trouble yourself, Lord Chancellor. I need no advocate." Her icy words cut the cold air and Lord Narcisse inevitably shuddered. He had only returned from England a few weeks ago, without a wife but as a widower with little John in his arms, who he had left to the care of his grandmother. He would never forget how the gloomy and sorrowfull face of the Queen Mother had turned into a bright smile at the sight of the boy. One that had also reached her beautiful, almond-brown eyes.  
Once there had been a time when Catherine de' Medici had smiled at him the exact same way. She had never looked more beautiful than in this lighthearted time that already seemed to date back an eternity.

Since his return to French court there was a strange, depressed mood between them. Lola's death, however, as well as their quarrels before his departure hung above their heads like a Damocles sword and prevented the previously acquired closeness between them from reappearing. Stephane did not know whether this was due to the assassination of his young wife and his grief or the countless power plays in the past that had set seeds of suspicion between them. The omnipresent sexual tension still existed, but neither he nor Catherine had dared to ignite the sparks of desire once again.

"Maybe, maybe not," Charles replied cryptically, looking at his mother. "I have to think." One single movement of his hand was enough to set the guards standing at the doors in motion. "Guards, escort my mother to her chambers and position a post in front of them. For the time being she stands under arrest."  
With heavy steps the two men approached Catherine and the former monarch could not suppress an eye-roll about this ridiculous situation. She had done many terrible things in her life that would justify such a treatment, however, her attempt to protect her son against the insolently arrogant claims of a self-complacent lord was no reason for such a rude treatment in her eyes. Catherine looked at the giant guard on her right side with a poisonous look that instantly prevented him from reaching for her arm.

"Take your unwashed hands of me. I can find my rooms alone."  
Not waiting for her sons and his guards reaction, Catherine de' Medici left the room gracefully with blowing skirts. A sign of the king send the flabbergasted guards behind her.  
"One might think that all Valois men regard it as a new kind of popular sport to put me under arrest," the Queen Mother whispered angrily as she left the throne room. Before the heavy doors could close behind her, Princess Claude slipped into the room and with an amused expression she pointing at her departing mother.

"What did she do this time? It seems that I've missed all the fun." Even if mother and daughter were not in the same room, the tension that prevailed between them was still noticeable to outsiders.  
Charles, who grudgingly interrogated his sister's question, returned to his throne and waved Narcisse up to him.  
"What am I to do with her? Should I really exile my mother from court?"  
The hardness he had displayed earlier had disappeared from his posture and Stephane caught a glimpse at the overstrained boy with the burden of France on his shoulders of whom Catherine had spoken before. Was this his chance to positively influence his king?  
"Well, Your Majesty, one can endlessly hold forth about Catherine's motivation and immoral approach, but one thing I have no doubt about and that is her love and devotion for her children."  
Claude gave a contemptuous sound. Narcisse, however, refused to get irritated by the Princess's obvious animosities and continued to speak unimpressed.

"And maybe there will be a situation in the near future where you will wish for your mother to be at your side. If you desire a certain distance for the time being send her to the country but I would strongly advise against such drastic measures as exile."

The last time a French king had sent Catherine de' Medici into exile she had sought the alliance with the enemy. In close vicinity Catherine was already dangerous, disowned and in the distance however, she would grow into an incalculable force of nature, of that he was certain. And even if he did not dare to pronounce this in public, Catherine had in fact made no attempt to undermine the dominion of her son in order to justify an exile. It weren't the doings of the Queen Mother he was worried about but the fluttering and at times even uncertain behavior of her son, which worried the Lord Chancellor above all measures.

"Exile? Mother may go into exile and I will be married off?"  
Outraged at the obvious injustice in her eyes, Claude built herself up before the two men. The subject of marriage was still a sore spot and Catherine's rather disingenuous approach to free her daughter from her previous marriage and unpleasant husband had pushed another wedge between their already shaky relationship. In the end, this dubious action had caused Catherine to fall into disgrace with her children and it had once again snatched the regency from her as Charles has been declared as of full age. On the other hand Lord Narcisse has been appointed as Lord Chancellor.  
"Princess Claude, this is not the right time to discuss this subject with you once more." Narcisse did not even try to hide his annoyance.  
"Oh no?! I beg to differ." The young woman pouted. "I would prefer a banishment over a marriage. I do not need a man to rule over me."  
With her hands clasped together, Claude looked from one man to the other as if her piercing gaze alone could change their minds.  
"A man to rule over you?" Charles wrinkled his forehead and drove his fingers thoughtfully through his dark hair. "Sister, this is an excellent idea."

Claude stared at her brother in confusion and turned to Lord Narcisse, who was no less irritated.  
"I simply marry her off and hand the responsibility over to her husband!", inspired by his idea the young king searched in his lord chancellors expression for approval. On the other hand Narcisse and the princess stared at their monarch with open mouths.  
"You want to marry our mother off? Which poor guy do you want to punish this hard?"  
Claude's bewilderment gave way to amusement and a giggle escaped her throat.  
"With your permission, Your Majesty ...", Stephane began to protest. No matter how much hell on earth Catherine and he had given each other, the thought of seeing her bound to another man for eterity was all of a sudden much worse than a possible banishment. The image of her in the arms and bed of this still-faceless husband caused bitter bile to rise in his throat.  
"No, my friend, do not try to talk me out of this great plan. It's downright perfect! Or do you think she's too old? Oh, what am I talking about?! There are enough old lords who are quite suitable candidates for a wedding with my mother. At the same time this could cause a lot of gold to flow into our state fund. Another plus."  
"An ancient, tattled lord? How long do you think she will need to wrap him around her little finger? Or to serve him a delicious meal with a small, deadly garnish?" Claude expressed a thought Lord Narcisse did not consider unfounded. Charles also considered her words.

"Maybe you are right. We need someone to keep her in check. Someone who knows her games, who is up to her and will not be intimidated by her threats." Narcisse felt less and less uncomfortable with each passing second. The kind of man that King Charles described would be exactly the kind Catherine would secretly enjoy. Power and strength attracted her like candlelight attracted moths.  
"Somehow I can get more and more out of this plan." The wide smile on Princess Claude's face could only be explained as a blast of joy. A fate that has been first thought to be hers would now come to her own mother. "Now you just have to find such a man. How about Lord Loboutain? Or Christian Besnier?"  
"Lord Loboutain recently announced his engagement with one of the many daughters of the House of Germain," explained councillor Dupas, who has kept himself in the background. "And the health of Besnier is not to be the best."  
"How very unfortunate. Then let us reconsider. There has to be a Lord who has the power to restrain my mother."

"You really want to marry your mother, Catherine de' Medici, off against her will?" Stephane Narcisse, who had hoped up to this moment that this prodigious plan of the young king would turn out to be nothing but an impulsive train of thought, looked at his ruler with a very doubtful expression on his face.  
"This is exactly what I intend to do. And now think about it, Lord Narcisse, there must be more men besides you whose knees don't go week in a heated discussion with my mother."  
Charles folded his hands together and looked up at the ceiling. He murmured names of noblemen who came to his mind, but which he seemed to reject immediately.  
"Whom did you say by all means does not get shaking knees in the very presence of our beloved mother? And this someone, as I call it, has already savoured the forbidden fruit." Claude asked with a smug tone as she turned one of her locks around her finger and looked at her brother most innocently. For a moment, the King seemed irritated, but then he realized what his sister was trying to tell him not so subtly. Narcisse, too, understood the direction in which the princess tried to steer her king and brother, and he inevitably stiffened.


	2. Chapter 2

"Your Majesty, you cannot mean ..." The Lord Chancellor tried to withdraw himself from this situation. But Charles, who put his arm on the shoulder of the older man just grinned at him and simply went on while ignoring Narcisses protest.  
"Lord Narcisse, in case you oblige, you would more than prove yourself to your crown. I would be in your debt - personally. You have to look at it as a twist of fate. It might as well be your destiny. Not only have you returned from England, but you are also a widower now. I'm pretty sure that a new wife would help you overcoming your terrible loss. You also seem to have some kind of feelings for my mother." Stephane shook his head and the sole idea of marrying Catherine de' Medici sent icy chills down his spine.  
"At least in those split seconds when you do not wish to strangle her," Claude sneered, not helping to relax the situation by any means.

"You've put me in an extremely precarious position, Your Majesty. Quite honestly I don't even entertain the idea of a new marriage so shortly after the death of my beloved wife." Lord Narcisse was visibly struggling for composure. Standing up against his inconstant king could turn out quite dangerous for him and the position he now held at French Court. But the alternative - an alliance with the devil - was absolutely unthinkable. Or wasn't it? Even if this female devil was extremely bewitching and certainly not without a special charm. Catherine was and remained a woman whom one better kept at an arm's length distance, no matter how big the carnal temptation might be. Just because he desired Catherine for some incomprehensible reasons did not mean that he had to rush to his very own doom.  
"Lord Narcisse, of course I understand your position. And I would be more than willing to show you my gratitude. Come on, take a walk with me. We will surely come to an agreement." Before the older man could bring forward any further objection, Chales already directed him towards the doors. Stephane actually welcomed a conversation in private, perhaps he would be able to persuade his king otherwise without stranger's eyes being directed upon them.

The two men stepped out into the cool evening air. White haze had spread over the lake and the gardens and clouds darkened the moon above them. A ghostly yet peaceful atmosphere prevailed.  
"You're serious about your request, aren't you?"  
"Do you honestly think your king is joking?" Charles stopped and looked at his chancellor. "Even if my request does not please you, I promise that you can also expect your advantages from this alliance. For an instance, how about a big estage with a beautiful chateau in Normandy, or a vineyard on the most fertile soil of our country?"  
Stephane chose his next words with care. One did not reject your kings request thoughtlessly. He had to outdo his monarch with logic.  
"My king, it's not the worldly goods my heart desires. My last two marriages have remained childless; my living sons are already of a marriageable age..."

Narcisse was not ashamed in the least of hiding his true objections against a marriage with Catherine de' Medici behind an ungainly lie. He hadn't married the much younger Lola for her to provide him with heirs, but because the hunt itself and chasing after the forbidden fruit had aroused him. To his disappointment the few month of their marriage had turned out to be rather dull and boring. And there was at least one thing he had to give Catherine credit for: no matter how complicated their relationship had been - boredom had never arisen with this woman by his side.  
"Narcisse, I know what I'm asking you and that my mother will not give you any more children. But I will permit you to raise John. After all he is your step-son and an orphan. I ask you to marry my mother because I know you are the right man for it. I'm not a fool. I can see the glances you and my mother dart at each other. She may be impertinent, stubborn, and difficult to control, but I have been told that you are a man who is not afraid of a difficult task, and besides, I believe that the idea of measuring your forces with Catherine in the setup of a marriage attracts you particularly."  
The lord chancellor strived for a neutral expression. How could his young and inexperienced king read him so well? Was it just a shot in the dark or were his contradictory feelings written on his face so clearly?

"It is far from me to blame you, Chales, and your offer greatly honors me..."  
"Then accept it for gods sake" demanded the king tersely, however added conciliatoryly: "And in addition, I offer you a good catch for both of your sons. Wealth, power - that's what you're seeking and I can offer it to you. You will marry right into the Valois family if you take the Queen Mother as your wife, Lord Chancellor."

Even before Charles had finished speaking, Stephane already knew that he was going to take this offer. He was a man too weak to resist this sweet temptation. The only thing lacking was some kind a life insurance. One the young monarch would surely provide without Narcisse having to expose himself to Catherine's rage. At least not on that level.  
He didn't have any doubt that she would be furious and angry about this marriage in general but the thought of being able to call this untamed woman his own in the very near future excited him against his better judgement. Now he just had to play his last trump card in a clever way.

"And what good will it be to me, if I run the risk of falling victim to a poisoning of my wife, who will certainly be very angry, my lord?"  
"If you agree, you can leave your safety and well-being in my capable hands. My mother will not harm you in any possible way." Charles laid his hand on Narciss's arm to underpin his promise.  
"Then, my King, it will be my honor to take your mother as my wife." Stephane bowed and was rewarded with the brightest of smile from his monarch.


	3. Chapter 3

Catherine, who has been up since the wee morning hours, paced up and down her chambers like a captured tigress. As soon as the heavy oaken door opened she whireled around in annoyance.  
"Finally, what took you so long? I'm dying of starvation!" She snapped ungraciously. Through the door, however, came none of her servants with the expected breakfast, but two strong guards who were carrying a big chest between them. With a loud rumbling noise they let the heavy piece of furniture down right in the middle of her chambers. Irritation spread across the Queen Mother's face, but recognition flared up in her eyes as soon as her son Charles entered the room behind them.  
"What does that mean? You're going to send me away?"  
Catherine hurried toward him but stopped dead in her tracks the moment she was faced with the grim, resolute look he was throwing her way.  
"Only if you force me. I'll leave you with a choice, mother." The King narrowed the distance between them, reached for Catherine's arm and roughly directed her to the window. Just at this very moment a black coach drove up in front of the castle.

"So this coach is probably intended for me. However, a second alternative is usually offered if you want someone to choose between options, Charles, "the former monarch mocked and the pressure on her arm hardened slightly.  
"Don't let me regret the kindness I am going to offer you." Charles words were an angry growl.  
"I am all ears." Catherine shot back as furious as her son.  
"The carriage down there will take you from here to our Chateau in Alsacein in half an hour if this is what you prefer. The tower has already been set up for you. And you will remain under arrest as long as it pleases me. Far away from court and your family that you claim is so dear and precious to you."  
"And you probably expect me to opt for option two. So tell me, Charles, how exactly do you intend to degrade me?"

"You will marry - the man I choose for you." The King's words met his mother like a punch in the pit of her stomach. Catherine broke loose from him in bewilderment and stared at the youthful face of the man who dared to demand such an atrocity from her with disbelief.  
"I beg your pardon?! A marriage? "Her voice sounded firm, almost amused, but deep inside a panic rose she wasn't fully able to suppress. She avoid granting her son a look at her true feelings as this would equate a capitulation without any counter-defense.  
"Exactly. You are getting married."

As Charles made no effort to continue, Catherine passed him silently, ripping a handful of clothes from the adjoining laundry chamber and threw the bundle furiously into the waiting chest.  
"I'm packing," she announced superfluously, catching the disbelieving stare on her sons face that gave her a certain satisfaction.  
"You pack without wanting to know whom I have chosen to be the lucky bridegroom?" She soaked up Charles's disappointment at her refusal to admit herself to this childish play and gave him a smug smile all the while selecting different nightgowns.  
"Yes, as the role of devoted, submissive wife is not mine at all. Regardless of which man you intend to chain me to."  
Without gracing the king with another look she continued in her packing rage.  
"I'm sure Lord Narcisse does not have any false illusions."

"Narcisse?" She paused in her motion, skeptically raised an eyebrow and tried to hold a neutral tone. The mischievous, almost triumphant smile on her boy's face was nearly sending her over the edge.  
"You understood me correctly. Narcisse. And now, mother, would you like to overthink your answer once again?"  
Catherine's fingers stroked over the silky material of her burgundy cloak which she had folded a few seconds before and gently set the piece of clothing on top of her other belongings.  
"This changes nothing" she muttered softly with a hint of melancholy in her voice.  
"He already agreed," Charles pointed out but Catherine simply shrugged.  
"Do not trouble yourself, my son."  
"And what happend to your assurance that you would do everything for me? For France?", This question came out unexpectedly and so violent that Catherine nearly jumped. She furrowed her brow and paused.  
"Oh, now I understand. For you my departure was never even under discussion, right?! You just wanted to point out the best possible option according to your eyes. Tell me, Chales, how much will Stephane's agreement cost you? "Catherine stood in front of her son with hands on her hips and fury in her eyes.  
"No more than it's worth it. And I want you to agree as well."

"So you can keep me close but give Narcisse the possibility to take me on a leash if necessary? I AM NOT A DOG, CHARLES! "She shouted out to the King of France who involuntarily took a step back at this unexpected outburst. It took him a moment to gather himself.  
"No, you are a stubborn, headstrong and manipulative woman and I hope to god that Narcisse knows what he is getting himself into. You now have the last opportunity to agree to this marriage, or the carriage waiting outside will take you away from here immediately. Do you really want to spend the rest of your days alone, secluded in a tower and without any human contact at all?", he pressed out threateningly.

No real emotion was visible in Catherine's petrified expression as she turned away silently, looking out at said coach. Charles watched as her shoulders first rose and then descended again as she deeply inhaled and then slowly exhaled. When his mother turned round again, a fake smile appeared on her lips.  
"So tell me when will this wedding take place?"


	4. Chapter 4

Catherine stared unhappily at the document the bishop handed her that already contained Stephane Narcisse's signature. She felt not only the eyes of the guests of their wedding party rest on her alone, but also the king's and her soon-to-be husband's. One could have heard a dropped pin at this moment as almost everyone in the throne room seemed to involuntarily hold their breaths. For the fraction of a second Catherine closed her eyes, then she reached for the quill and with a heavy heart she put her name beside the man's she now had to call her husband.  
The remaining minutes of the wedding ceremony simply passed by for Catherine. She felt strange and somehow lost resuming the role of the blushing bride. A role she had never wanted to regain after Henry's death. And yet she was kneeling here to be chained to a man by the power of crown and church for whom she had some extremely mixed feelings.

With a simple gesture the clergyman asked them to rise again. She would have liked to ignore Stephane's hand he offered her, however her good education and the years of humiliation at Henry's side taught her to always keep her countenance as well as her dignity, so she reached for it and arose with his help.  
It was only when the bishop asked Stephane to seal their marriage with a kiss when Catherine adopted a ridgid posture. She didn't enjoy being kissed in front of an audience.   
With a smile she could only interpret as smug, the Lord Chancellor bowed down to her. Catherine held her breath when he lifted his strong hands to caress her cheeks with a delicate touch. Then he pulled her in and his lips lowered on hers. She let it happen, acknowledged his newly acquired rights as her husband, but she deliberately let the kiss lack any passion or devotion. Stephane broke away from her and gallantly offered his arm to his new wife.  
"Let the games begin," he whispered to Catherine as she strode to the other side of the throne room along his side. His comment put a real smile on her face. The first one since this crazyness began.  
The pair came to a halt in front of their King and it costed Catherine lots of self-mastery to accept her son's congratulations without a sassy remark.

\------

Throughout the day Stephan's gaze had rested upon Catherine. His wife. He had not yet become accustomed to the idea that she was his now and he seriously doubted that he would ever get used to it. Although he stood framed by some honourable councilors, he did not let Catherine out of his sight. She has broken free from his grip only a few minutes ago and he was now observing how she pulled one of her little spys aside at the other end of the room. 

His wife was a feast for the eyes. Though the cream-colored, lush dress was highcut, however it fitted her like a second skin and impressively emphasized her enticing curves. A variety of golden beads and sequins adorned the fabric and made Catherine shine even more beautifully. To his delight she wore her red-blond hair only partly pinned up. Some loose strands framed her neck quite nicely on this particular day. This special look suited her very well as it softend her delicate features in a nice and feminine way.

He hadn't caught sight of Catherine since that fateful evening 3 days ago. It had been Charles himself who had delivered the news of her acceptance and he suspected that the young monarch had ensured that his mother didn't leave her chambers until their wedding. He had actually feared the day to see her again, but the moment a breathtakingly beautiful Catherine had walked down the aisle he had thrown caution in the wind and started to embrace this new direction of his life. God alone knew what Catherine would come up with in the near future to make his life difficult. But a small part of him was already looking forward to being able to compete against the most powerful woman of France in the intimate setup of a marriage.

Narcisse watched Catherine pulling out a letter from under her dress and placing it inconspicuously into the waiting hands of her little spy. The young thing smiled at her mistress and let the document disappear into her plunging neckline.  
"Oh come on! You can't even wait twenty-four hours before you have to plot your first rebellion, Catherine?", he murmured self-indignant, waving for his own henchmen. Followed by the two men, the bridegroom stepped out onto the balcony. Makeing sure they were alone, Narcisse addressed his confidants:  
"My wife just handed a letter over to Lady Madeleine. Bring it to me. It must never reach its recipient. And keep an eye on Madeleine."  
Without waiting for their answer, Lord Narcisse turned around and stepped back into the brightly lit room.

Instantly his eyes searched for his wife in the crowd. Catherine had sat down on a sofa, balancing a plate of sweet delicacies on her lap. She seemed to have zoomed out of the hectic activities surrounding her. Then with a pleasuarble expression on her face she put a marzipan covered date into her mouth. Smiling he crossed the room.  
"Now I see. Finally you have found something you can enjoy on this special day." Catherine looked up at him chewing, but neither his presence nor his comment stopped her from putting another treat into her mouth.  
"Don't we all have our guilty pleasures?" Nodding in approval, Stephane also helped himself with a date then he took the plate from her and held out his hand.  
"Dance with me, Catherine."

Catherine's eyes flickered briefly and Lord Narcisse wondered whether she had just suppressed an eye-roll. Then she let him lead her to the dance floor. With a smooth bow, Stephane clasped her much smaller hands into his and the couple got carried away by the soft music.  
"Some months ago you told me that you're not my wife and that you won't walk back into my arms. And now see how unpredictable fate can be." Catherine, who turned to slowly stride around him, could not suppress a slight growl. When she had circling him, he felt her hot breath close to his ear, raising the fine hair at the nape of his neck.  
"Do not lose yourself in this foolish, make-believe romance. What drove me into your arms is neither your charm, nor your exaggerated abilities as a lover, but the unfortunate attempt of my son to control me," she whispered.  
Stephane's hands went around her waist and pulled her closer against his body than it was actually decent.  
"And obviously he is convinced that I am most captable of doing just that." With a bold move he swung her around so that her wide skirts huddled against his legs with every turn they took.  
"Even bigger men have failed their tasks," Catherine whispered while her body was pressed in the most perfect way against his.  
"I will not fail, Chérie. And my abilities as a lover are available to you any time," he assured her and his hand slipped possessively over the small of her back.  
"Oh, please," Catherine muttered, breaking free from his embrace as soon as the last chords of the song faded away.  
"Enough dancing, my dessert is waiting."


	5. Chapter 5

Even though she would never admit it to Narcisse, the intimate closeness of their dance had heavily afflicted Catherine and turned her legs into jelly. She would not allow herself to be ruled by burning desire and blind attaction as there was too much at stake for her. For carrying out her plan she had to keep Stephane at arm's length for the next few days. Not an easy task, as the Lord Chancellor was an incredibly handsome man - and an excellent lover. However, there was one thing Catherine de' Medici had learned very early on: Once in a while life confronts you with new, sometimes unbearable challenges that demand great sacrifices and she would spare no effort if said sacrifices served a larger cause.

"Mother, have I already congratulated you properly on your happy union?" Catherine was pulled out of her thoughts by the question of her cheeky daughter. The Queen Mother dropped herself on a dark sofa and reached for the plate Narcisse had previously stolen from her.  
"Only about a dozen times, Claude," she sighed and picked up a raspberry tart with pointed fingers. "But if it makes you happy, please be my guest and tell me once again how pleased you are that I'm married now."  
Claude, who seemed unimpressed by her mother's ironic words, helpted herself with a tart and took a bite. As usual the young princess looked gorgeous. Her elaborately crafted corset was of a pale lilac color and showed off her narrow waist. It excellently matched her slightly darker skirts.  
"No worries, I believe I have expressed my feelings sufficiently. Mhm, that tart is delicious!"

The Princess sat down next to her mother and surprisingly leaned against Catherine's shoulder.  
"To be honest I'm a little bit disappointed that Charles chose such a damn good-looking man for you," Claude whispered, and the older woman couldn't suppress a faint laugh at this sassy remark.  
"I suppose you would have preferred a quirky old man with a hunchback, wouldn't you?" Catherine smiled and affectionately stroke Claudes back. It was frightening from time to time how much the younger woman took after her.  
"Or someone with a nice cloven hoof. Although I'm not sure I can rule this one out in case of Narcisse." Catherine chuckled while her eyes searched for the subject of their conversation.  
"So this means that Stephane and you did not...", she didn't dare to finish her question. Claude sighed theatrically and rolled her eyes.  
"No! Not that I didn't try. But the thought alone that he and you ... really!" To emphasize her words, the Princess shuddered violently and put on a disgusted face.

With none of her children Catherine could speak more openly. And none displayed such an impertinent behavior as Claude did. The desire to strangle her stubborn girl admittedly came across more often than the desire to pull her into a loving embrace.  
"What shocks you more? That I have a love life or that a man like Narcisse showed some interest in your old mother?"  
"Mother, I do not want to talk about your love life. Actually I don't even want to think about the fact that you have one", Claude wailed and straightened herself to look at Catherine accusingly.  
"Well, then feel free to always recall this part of our conversation in case you stumble into a moral minefield once again, Claude. I am sick of having to pull you out under married men," Catherine said matter of factly with a resolute voice.  
"Those days are over. I have Leith now. He makes me happy," the princess claimed with a charming smile on her face. Her tone was soft and warm.  
"And this, my child, makes me happy as well."  
Out of the corner of her eye Catherine noticed Madelaine who was approaching her inconspicuously.  
"And now off you go, Darling. You shouldn't spend this evening with your poor mother but in the arms of your loved one." Claude nodded, then she placed a kiss on Catherine's cheek and ran off in search of Leith.

The second princess Claude had left Catherine's side, Madeleine, one of her Ladies in waiting appeared at her side. With an inviting gesture the bride offered her the seat her daughter had vacated just a second ago.  
"My letter is on it's way?", she whispered and her eyes cautiously searched the room for her freshly wedded spouse. Stephane was standing at the other end of the great hall. He was engrossed in a conversation with three of the councilors and did not seem to pay any attention to his wife.  
"Yes, your Majesty," confirmed the attractive dark-haired woman who was smoothing her skirts while nodding.  
"And the drug?" Catherine wanted to know, offering Madeleine her half full plate.  
Her lady reached for one of the small parfaits. Thereby she placed a carefully folded cloth on the plate that contained a handful of pills. Her mistress reached for it and hid it under the sleeve of her wedding dress.  
"Do not take more than two at the same time. The effect should last no longer than two or three hours," Madeleine explained, then she rose and went her way.

Fabrice Darntelle, who was standing stock-still behind the sofa and had witnessed their exchange, pushed himself off the wall. With a knowing smile on his face he let his fingers brush the envelope in his coat pocket. Then he paved his way through the crowd to report to his master.


	6. Chapter 6

As soon as Stephane saw Fabrice, he put his hand on the smaller man's arm and tossed his fellow members of the privy council an apologetic look. Then he directed his own spy out into the night.  
"Did you get a hold on that letter?" He wanted to know matter of factly once they were out of earshot.  
"Of course, my Lord," Darntelle said and he held up the document in question. Narcisse reached for it and approached one of the torches that were fixed in the walls. Impatiently he broke open Catherine's seal and let his eyes glide over her flowing handwriting.  
"Oh, no, my love, that's not going to happen," he angrily growled, getting ready to go back iside.  
"Lord Narcisse, there's something else." At Stephane's command, the man reported on the previously observed exchange.  
"Thank you Fabrice, this would be all for the time being but be available until further notice." The Lord Chancellor carefully folded the letter and pocketed it.

Narcisse put on his widest smile before returning to the hall, his eyes already searching for Catherine. He discovered his lovely wife in the middle of some noble men. He had to acknowledge that she was pure eye candy but her beauty was solely overthrown by her refinement and slyness. Actually he could not even blame her. The Valois would not have remained in power for so long if they had not learned how to resist their enemies, sometimes in a cunning and brutal way. And the former monarch was a true artist in this field, but now she had found her master.  
Catherine had declared war towards him and if that's what she wanted, then she would get war. He just hoped she knew what she was in for as he would certainly not be afraid to avail himself of any means – fair or unfair. And if Stephane went to war, he would not be content with halfhearted power struggles - his goal was nothing less than the unconditional surrender of the opposing side and a hostile capture of the enemy's fortress. If his wife did not voluntarily stand on his side he would have to subdue her.  
All is fair in love and war. And eventually this would turn out as some kind of love-war.

He did not let his bride out of his sight for the rest of the evening. No matter where she turned, Stephane was always by her side, pampering her with attention, offering wine and delicacies from their wedding buffet. In the seldom moments when her hand wasn't resting in his, Narcisse put his arm possessionly around her waist. And he kept Catherines hands far away from his own wine goblet.

However shortly before midnight, she freed herself from his grasp and left the room accompanied by an armada of her flying squads to meet her female needs. When Catherine returned after a little while, her cheeks were frightfully pale and her steps had lost their usual strength. With the proper concern expected from her husband, he toughtfully equired about her well-being. And although she declined his worry, the fact that she slightly swayed did not escape his attention. Stephane laid his arm supportingly around her.  
"I'm fine. Well, maybe I've had one wine too much," Catherine muttered with a heavy tongue. "Is it me or is it getting extremely hot all of a sudden?"  
This wasn't the wine, Narcisse knew for sure. One glass too much wouldn't knock out a Medici.  
Stephane tried to put on a worried face. So this dubious drug Madeleine gave her had thus been destined for herself. He wondered whether she had planned to take the pills herself from the beginning, or if his behavior had forced her to change her plans at a short notice.

"Obviously you are not doing fine," he whispered and turned to Madeleine. "Take her to her chambers and take good care of my wife."  
For a heartbeat he thought he saw a triumphant smile on Catherine's face before another dizzy spell hit her and the remaining color vanished from her cheeks.

Shortly thereafter the bride left the room with her maids of honor. Her bridegroom looked after her and mutely began to count down the time. According to Madeleine it only took 2-3 hours to cure the dreadful symptoms of this out of the blue disease. And he did have time.


	7. Chapter 7

In the dead of the night the Lord Chancellor of France hurried throught the deserted vaults of the castle. He was accompanied by his personal guards and henchmen Pierre Bertrant and Fabrice Darntelle, who carried a torch to illuminate his master's path. The men came to a halt just in front of the Queen Mother's chambers. Her own guards, a heavily built older man and an insecure young lad, jumped to attention and varily eyed the nightly intruders. The older man's hand that was resting on his sword's knob visibly tensed.  
"Stand at ease! You're dismissed, Fabrice and Pierre are going to take over your watch this night," Narcisse said firmly.  
"My Lord, Her Grace quite expressly ordered us not to permit anyone access to her rooms tonight." stuttered the young fellow who seemed very upset by this situation.  
"This I believe without any doubt. Anyhow, that certainly doesn't apply for her husband." The sharpness of his words did not allow any further protest. The two guards gave each other a questioning look but then they gave in to their Lord Chancellor's order. Narcisse pointed at one of the chambersticks that was enlightend by Fabrice and handed over to the Lord.  
"I wish no disturbances."  
His guards nodded in agreement and pushed the doors open for him.

With the candlestick in his hand, Stephane stepped into the darkened room to see his wife. The door softly closed behind him. He carefully traversed the room and came to a halt in front of her bed.  
Catherine had curled up into a tight ball on her right side and was deeply asleep. Her red-blond hair was tied into a simple braid that had begun to loosen at the ends. He just stood there for a moment, absorbing the image of his sleeping wife. She wore a white nightdress with plenty of lace that nestled snuggly to her body. The blanket merely reached her waist which gently and oh so invitingly stood out under the sheet and his fingers tingled with the desire to tenderly caress these curves.  
He put down the candlestick and carefully circled the bed.  
Never before had he witnessed Catherine de' Medici being so relaxed, she almost seemed tame. Sleep had obviously softened her otherwise so tense features and every part of her body seemed soft, feminine and tremendously inviting. Her previous paleness had disappeared from her cheeks and her face had once again assumed a healthy, rosy complexion. Involuntarily a tender smile appeared on his lips.

He didn't know what kind of surprises this marriage would hold for him - but the possibilitiy of being able to enjoy a sight like this every evening from now on seemed like a sacrifice he was willing to make. This was a new, never experienced form of intimacy between them. He may have been on the receiving end of Catherine's devotion in the past but these where nothing more but stolen moments full of passion, desire, and despair. They might have physically satisfied him but still left him feeling empty and with a different kind of frustration.  
They had fought for and against each other, declared themselves allies as well as enemies and were drawn to each other like two magnets quite as often as they have repelled each other. And now they had to find a way to heal the wounds they had inflicted on their own and each others souls. Not an easy task. Especially not in consideration of the fact that Catherine had already made efforts to boycott their marriage. However - without success – and he was going to take care of this now.

It was time to legitimize this marriage and to win the first battle in this war. More determined than ever before, Stephane stripped off his clothes and made himself comfortable in the bed right behind his sleeping bride. She didn't react to his presence even as the mattress sagged under his additional weight. Either the drug she had previously taken did contain some sort of sedative or she made use of a sleeping pill. All the better for him and his plan. The more addled her otherwise razor-sharp mind was, the simpler it would be for him to break through her barricades. To test his theory Narcisse let his fingers run over Catherine's arm. She still showed no reaction.

"Catherine," he muttered and his fingers affectionately glided from her shoulder to her waist while he moved closer to her to burry his nose into her hair that heavenly smelled of roses. His hands caressed her body as though of their own accord. They found their way over beloved and familiar tracks but also completely new ones, outlining an intimate map of soft hills and sweet valleys he would now have time to explore his whole life.  
To his delight he felt a still half asleep Catherine press her bottom against his crotch. A hoarse groan escaped his throat and his growing erection impatiently poked against her lower back. There has never been any woman with such a glorious ass even thought he would never admit this to his wife. He clasped her midsection with one hand and drew her even closer. And while he breathed feathery kisses onto her nape, his fingers ran up to her breasts. Catherine started to stir and Stephane self-satisfied registered her arched back to offer him better access to her breasts. His mouth wandered down her neck and teasingly nibbled at her earlobe.  
"Ma Belle, wake up."

Catherine muttered an indefinable tone and stretched her neck with catlike elegance to give his lips more room for his attack. Accepting this sweet offer, Stephane placed several more kisses along the nape of her neck. Meanwhile his hands slid down her hot little body and pushed her nightgown upwards. His fingers found her wet center and gently rubbed over her swollen clit. At his touch Catherine let out a hoarse moan and pressed her butt more firmly against his already painful erection. With a firm grip he rolled his wife on her back and positioned himself above her. 

The fire that blazed from her now open eyes heightened his desire. His lips passionately found hers as he placed his erect penis between her legs.  
"Catherine, I'll take you as my wife," Narcisse whispered and penetrated her with one single, violent push. "I will love you, respect and honor you all days of my life," he promised breathlessly as he slowly raised his pelvis only to re-enter her a second later.  
"Oh God, be quiet," Catherine hissed but involuntarily shuddered as his fingers slid down her side with a gossamer touch. His attempt to continue his marriage promise was prevented as she pulled Stephane's head down to her and ferociously kissed him.

"You treacherous son of a bitch," she whispered against his mouth whereupon he gently nibbled on her lower lip. He could feel the soft vibration of her body that was exquisitly twitching under his so he bit down a little bit harder until she wildly reared up against him.  
He braced himself and began slamming into her over and over until he forgot where he ended and she began. Her alluring body writhed underneath him and her squirming movements drove him to madness. Narcisse slipped a hand between them, stimulating and teasing Catherine until she began to twitch in ecstasy beneath him.  
It was only now that he allowed himself to completely let go. About two minutes of powerful pounding was all he could take before he exploded and a wave of pleasure washed over him.

Stephane bonelessly slumped upon Catherine and buried his face in her neck. He covered her soft skin with numerous kisses while his heart pounded wildly against his chest. Laying completely still in this position he waited for his erratic pulse to slow down. He was gently drifting into sleep until his wife forcefully started to stir benreath him.  
"Don't you dare falling asleep on top of me. As I've now attended to my duties as your new wife and you've had your fun you can just as well leave, Stephane." She tried to push her husband off her body once again. Getting frustrated, Narcisse gave in to her urging and rolled onto the cool sheet right beside Catherine.  
"You have attended to your duties?", he asked in amusement, leaning on his elbowd to get a better look at his wife.  
"Quite obviously," Catherine snorted, pointing at his naked body. Her reaction gave him a laugh.  
"My dear wife, be glad that I am too relaxed to start a discussion with you about the general conditions of this brand new union. And now be so kind and let me sleep. I'm tired and we still have the rest of our lives for quarreling." To let her know that the last word was spoken, Narcisse pulled out the blanket from under their bodies and covered both of them with it.  
"Oh no, what exactly do you think you're doing? Do you really think anything between us has changed by this? Get out of my bed! We may be married,however, this comes not even close to a real marriage for crying out loud," Catherine growled and furiously rose to kick away the blanket. 

He mutely counted to three, then he rose. Before his spouse could put on a self-satisfied smile he took out the treacherous letter from the pocket of his coat, cornered her bed and angrily threw the document into Catherine's lap. Even in the dim room only brightened by candlelight he could see that nearly all color had vanished from her red cheeks. She swallowed hard upon seeing the evidence of her betrayal.

"I AM YOUR HUSBAND, CATHERINE! This matrimonial bond has been established by God and finally consumed a few minutes ago, despite the fact that you have spared no effort to prevent this. Is the idea of being married to me that terrible that you had to ask for an annulment from the Vatican with the help of the Medicis? Not to forget that you swallowed pills that could harm you just to keep your husband out of your bed. I actually planned on giving this marriage a fair chance, to give us a chance. I wanted not only to be your husband, but also a partner and confidant, Catherine. But if you want to be in wedlock the hard way, then don't let me stand in your way. And since you have already shown me that I can not trust you as early as in our wedding night, you will move to my chambers as of tomorrow. You may try to prove that you want to work on this marriage but for now I'd like to ask you to let me go to sleep." His last words sounded tired, almost resigned.

"How dare you talk to me like that? That's ... " Catherine did not come to finish her sentence as she was pushed back into her cushions by Stephane's weight like a flash of lightning.  
"I said I want to sleep now," he growled menacingly, raising her hands over her head in a steel-hard grip. His lips were only a few millimeters away from hers and she could feel his hot breath on her face.  
"Normally I do not manhandle my wives, but I swear to God if you don't shut up right now I will tie you to this bed and silence you with a gag!"  
Catherine's eyes shot poisonous darts in his direction but Stephane calmly returned her look. Cautiously he let go of her arms, rose to blow out the candles and then made himself at home on the other side of the bed.  
"I hate you," his wife murmured and for a millisecond he considered putting his threat into action, but then he reached for her hand in the darkness and placed a kiss upon it. Catherine only snorted.  
"I love you too. Good night, my lovely wife."


	8. Chapter 8

The next morning started way too early for Narcisse when with the first ray of light his wife forcefully tore the velvent curtains open and glistening brightness flooded the room. With an unhappy groan he buried his face into the soft cushions.  
"Do you plan on laying indolently in bed all day? The duties of a Lord Chancellor certainly won't take care of themselves," came the low voice of his newly-wedded bride from the other side of the room.  
"But they do not start in the middle of the night either," he muttered with annoyance, not ready to raise just yet.  
Stephane unintentionally rolled to the edge of the bed and his eyes wandered through the chambers in search for his wife. He found Catherine sitting on a chair in front of her vanity, carefully combing trought her long hair that gently cascaded down her back like a golden waterfall. She was only wearing a thin red robe over her nightgown that was tied up carelessly and revealed her creamy neckline. An alluring sight he was not accustomed to. A sight he very much liked since she had not yet hidden behind the rigid facade of the Queen Mother.  
"In the Middle of the night?! Oh, you're speaking of the time you took advantage of your sleeping and defenseless wife. Now it's broad daylight, Stephane."  
Her snippy comment made him laugh out loud. Catherine might combine many qualities in one person, but defenseless was not part of her repertoire.

"Defenseless? Oh come on, even with your hands tied behind your back you still remain a lethal threat." Regardless of his own nakedness Stephane got up and positioned himself behind his wife. With gentle force he took the brush out of her hand and began to comb her soft hair.   
"Do you know what I love so much about you? Even deep asleep or in the middle of our most fiery quarrel you cannot prevent your body from being ready for me as soon as I touch you." As if to prove his assertion, his free hand caressed her collarbone in a feathery touch.  
"Your flatteries will get you nowhere. You've already got what you wanted last night and take it from me - I'm not in the mood right now. And I'm pretty sure this moment will last." Catherine snatched the brush back from him and angrily tossed it on the surface of her vanity.

"Oh for Gods sake - you're seriously upset that I've seduced you in our wedding night?" Narcisse disbelievingly stared into the small mirror, searching there for her hazel eyes.  
"Of course I am. Why does this come as a surprise for you? Because you think the tiny little addition between your legs – that what makes the difference and identifies you as a man - gives you the right to simply take whatever you desire?" She stared at him angrily through the shiny glass of her mirror.  
"No, Catherine, it's my position as your husband that gives me the right," Narcisse growled indignantly.  
"Oh please, don't give me that speech once again."  
"Then should I give you the speech about your failed little plan to get our marriage annulled instead? Honestly, Catherine. You are not exactly in a position to make any demands."

Stephane watched his wife taking a deep breath. Probably to throw a nasty remark his way. So he pulled Catherine up from her sitting position and forcefully turned her to look at him.   
"I just want you to listen to me, okay? I do not want to lead a life where we are constantly being on each other's throats. And I'm ready to give it an honest try. Even if you are obviously not ready yet, I still expect you to make a serious attempt. We both have certainly wished for a different future, but since it's done and we are married now, we now have to learn to get along. And as a sign of my good will, I will not mention your little attempt to get our marriage annulled to Charles."

The surprised expression on her face betrayed not only that she did not reckon with his relenting, but also that she had actually listened to him.  
"Stephane, I will not make any promises to you, but at least I can give it a try." He could see how much overcoming this first timid admission had costed her. So he nodded approvingly and contented himself with this first little step she was willing to take in his direction. He involuntarily raised his hand and stroked her cheek with affection.  
"I'll accept that to start with." Narcisse dropped his hand and went back to the bed to collect his scattered clothes. But he was unable to interpret the look his wife was giving him.

So he hurriedly dressed while Catherine still looked at him indecisively. When he had finished, he approaced her one last time to give her a sweet farewell kiss. A kiss she actually returned to his greatest joy. Stephane released his wife after a few seconds and bent down to grab her hand and there he placed another kiss on her soft skin.

"I'll see you later, my dear wife."  
"That can't be helped, I'm afraid. Send in my maids, husband."


	9. Chapter 9

It was only after the door fell closed behind Narcisse when Catherine, who involuntary held her breath, began breathing again. Irritated, she ran her fingers over her trembling lips. Lips he had kissed just a few seconds before.  
Stephane Narcisse, her husband. A fact that was still beyond her grasp. How in the name of God could this have happened? They had a lot in common, she couldn't argue about that, still she would never have dreamed of marrying her ex-lover. To be precise, the general idea of a new marriage after Henry's death seemed utterly absurd to her. And yet she had exchanged one farce marriage for the next one. Like in the past this decision had not been hers at all. Her own son had flogged her off like some pesky head of cattle. To a man who possessed the kind of power over her, that frightened her.

She will not be fooled by his offer to keep her son out in the dark about her attempt to annul this marriage. She knew him and she knew men in general. As soon as the need to control or bend her will shall arise, he was going to use this knowledge to blackmail her into obedience. She had just pretended to give in for the moment to get rid of him.

Since she had learned that Charles had chosen his Chancellor as her husband three days ago, her heart and mind were involved in a still ongoing struggle. But she could not follow her stupid and somehow soppy heart, could not be guided by deceptive illusions as this was not only stupid, but also dangerous. Stephane had proved time and time again that she could not trust him. He was always looking for his own advantages. A man who would never act selflessly. Actually she couldn't even blame him as the welfare of her family and her own came first for her as well. She would stop at nothing if her family was in jeopardy.

But it were the feelings he was still able to arouse that made Stephane so extremely dangerous. He was more than an old lover or a casual way to satisfy her physical needs. No, he had gazed deeply into her soul, discovered the true Caterina, and she had been misled by her cursed feelings. A fatal mistake, as she had been nothing more than a dispensable chess figure. Nothing more than a means to an end. One that he willingly sacrificed for his main goal - conquering the white queen – Lola.

As a result they had entangled themselves in the net of a love triangle and unwittingly tightening the strings that tied them together. Stephane had drawn her into a maelstrom of love, jealousy and betrayal and she had been foolish enough not to resist.  
Oh, yes, he had undoubtedly desired her body and all the things he had been allowed to do with it, but it was still the fatuous young Lola to whom he had given his heart. She, on the other hand, had been deceived and used by him. In the end all they ever could do was lose. She had lost her self-respect and her desire to ever fall in love again, he had lost Lola by his adultery and lies and the poor thing had even lost her head.

The fact that she of all things had to marry Stephane seemed like a tasteless revenge of fate. After all, she was only his second choice. Once again. A fact she would never forget. And even the knowledge that they were more than compatible on a physical level could not hide the fact that his betrayal and her emotional exposure would always stand between them. She was such a stupid cow for opening up to him, for revealed her true feelings and making herself not only vulnerable, but also exposing herself to ridicule. Narcisse may have returned to her bed time and again - even though he had been married to Lola - yet it was his love for the much younger woman that had sent him to England. Away from French court and away from her.

Oh, why did this naive girl had to get herself invoved in this damned assassination attempt?  
She would still have her life and Catherine her freedom.  
"Till death do us part," she murmured selfconsciously and felt the urge to laugh out loud at this absurd situation.

A knock at the door tore the former monarch out of her thoughts.  
At her behest her maids came in to help Catherine get dressed. The midnight-blue, luxuriant dress had a low neckline that was embroidered with plenty of golden and wine-red lace and fitted her gloomy mood perfectly.  
The endless long time the girl needed to pin up her hair artfully, Catherine used to gather herself. She had to be careful not to give her unpredictable husband nor her gleefull children the satisfaction of seeing her in such a dissolved state. And with every strand that Natalie braided, twisted or twirled, Catherine raised her inner walls stone by stone. Until they were taller and more solid than ever before. With a last critical look into the mirrow she convinced herself that Catherine de' Medici - the unshakable, tough woman - looked back at her.  
Then she raised and went to the dining room to have breakfast with her children.


	10. Chapter 10

Contrary to her expectation the breakfast with Claude had been pleasant. Her daughter had been cheerful, high-spirited, and talkative. Catherine held the young Leith responsible for her relaxed state of mind. A connection she would never have expected but she tolerated it northeless. No one knew better than she did that the true value of a woman was merely measured at her dowry, her father's titles and her ability to bear heirs. Love only played a secondary role.  
She would gladly spare Claude a fate like hers and allow her a marriage with the young man she chose herself. As a regent she would certainly have found ways of doing that. But now things looked different. She had to convince not only Charles but also her husband, who had already made an attempt to marry the princess off to a wealthy Lord for a nice lump of gold for France. And to top it all Stephane's influence on Charles had grown during the last couple of weeks. In principle even the lowest servant had probably more influence on the king than his own mother. Nevertheless, she would leave nothing untried to keep the promise she had made to Claude.

To her relief Lord Narcisse had stayed away from breakfast. But the king too had been notably absent. Later she had learned that Charles had apparently skulked off at the first dawn of morning and that his Lord Chancellor got his hands full with government affairs and tracing their king.  
She had run into her son earlier this afternoon while he was sneaking through the private hallways of the royal family looking tired and unbearable pale. Her question for his well-being had simply been ignored. Just like her general presence.  
It was only when she grabbed his arm and dragged him into his chambers when he came out of his terrifying trance. But he had remained unresponsive to her warning words. His condition was frightening and she intended to talk to Narcisse about it. She hated to admit that if there was one person at court who could possibly get through to the King of France, it would be the Lord Chancellor.

Feeling demotivated, Catherine returned to her own rooms. Only to stop dead in the doorway, staring at the hustle and bustle taking place in her chambers in bewilderment.  
"What on earth are you doing here?" She shouted angrily after shaking off her rigidity. A great variety of her personal belongings had disappeared from the rooms. Including most of her clothes, some carpets, her vanity table as well as the big antique chest she had brought from Florence.  
Fabrice Darntelle who entered her chambers just this moment, bowed before her.  
"If you wish you can also take these curtains with you."  
It costed Catherine all her self-control not to scream out her answer.  
"I demand to know what's going on?! How dare you lay hand on my property?" She furiously snatched her dressing gown from one of the servant girls before she could put it into one of the chests. Startled, the skinny thing backed away from her and looked at Fabrice, searching for his help. He nodded encouragingly at the young woman, wrested the garment from Catherine's grip and handed it back to the maid.  
"We are moving your belongings to your husbands chambers. The order comes from him and if you have a problem with it, please refer to Lord Narcisse. These poor people are just doing what they've been told." She felt everyone's eyes focused on her. Frown lines appeared between her eyebrows while Catherine wrenched her dressing gown out of the maid's hands once again. She hissed furiously in Fabrice's direction and stormed off to the opposite wing of the castle, her skirts flowing wildly.

Before she could tear open the doors to Stephane's chambers, they were opened from inside and out came her husband, being engrossed in a conversation with one of his servants.  
"Good work, tomorrow you can begin with the remodelling of the dressing room. For the time being it should still fulfill its purpose. I'm sure my wife ..." Narcisse stopped in mid sentence the moment he spotted his furious wife rushing towards him. "And here she is. Catherine, I was already expecting you." To his servant he simply said: "You may leave now."  
"How dare you arrange my move to your chambers without consulting me first?!" The Queen Mother hissed angrily, pushing past him into the room to look at the extent of the catastrophe. All her belongings had already found a new place and it already looked as if they had always been here.  
"I've told you about this decision last night. And since you didn't make any effort to initiate your move yourself, I took matters into my own hands," he explainded tersely.

Catherine threw her dressing gown against his broad chest in disgust.  
"So this is what it looks like when you're trying to give our marriage a chance? You obtain sexual intercourse by fraud, move my property behind my back and above all you actually feel in the right! This is not the way how a proper marriage should work, Stephane!" She shouted out in frustration and had to fight a certain inhibition upon seing her belongings between his furniture.  
"I don't think you are qualified to judge how exactly a good marriage should look like." With this insult Catherine planted herself in front of him and aggressively tapped her fingers against his chest.  
"Don't you dare dragging my marriage with Henry into this conversation! I'm pretty sure you do not want to hear what I think about your three dead wives either, or were they four?" She spat at him angrily.  
"Nevertheless it is no secret that Henry and you have led separate lives in separate rooms. He paraded his whores and mistresses around before God and the whole court to see. Faithfullness is a word your dead husband couldn't even spell."  
Catherine didn't know what made her more angry. His attempt at throwing mud at her marriage with Henry or his refusal to respond to her accusations adequately.  
"How rich of you to bring up faithfullness," she said with an ice-cold, sharp voice. For Stephane himself had not been faithful to his Lola and no one knew better than her since it was her bed where he sought shelter and sexual fulfillment.

"It's old news that I in fact do desire you, Catherine," Narcisse replied with a neutral expression on his face.  
"You always desire the things you cannot have. And as soon as you have reached your goal, you start to get bored. I know you and see right through you, Stephane! Lets be honest with each other. At least once. You have your fun at shooing me and demonstrating your newly gained power. But sooner or later you will get bored. So let us shorten things and go right to this stage. Yes, you might be right, Henry and I have led separate lives, but this kind of arrangement ..." Catherine's speach was stopped by her husband as he put his hands on her shoulders in a soothing way.  
"No, Catherine," he whispered softly. "You and I, we will have a real and honest marriage. A wife's place is right at the side of her husband. In public and private, sharing bed and board. I will not allow us to live separate lives. We are both aware that there were some women before you. And just as your marriage with Henry was far from perfect, my marriages weren't perfect as well. But you are my equal – I have met my perfect match, just like you've said in the past. And I am lucky enough to be able to call such a strong, intelligent and beautiful woman my wife."

Catherine cast off his hands from her shoulders grimly. In her eyes an infernal fire was shining, however her expression was harder than the arctic winter.  
"Then let me tell you - this is not an encounter on equal footing but merely a miserable attempt on your part to dominate me," she told him unforgivingly, pointing at all her belongings that Stephane had moved to his chambers against her will. "Now if you'll excuse me, after all I have to acquaint myself with these new circumstances."  
With these words she dismissed her husband, who had no doubt that he was no longer welcomed in his very own chambers. Narcisse raised his hand to make a move to caress her cheek. Her icy gaze however stopped him in the middle of his movement.  
"We're going to talk tonight, ma Belle", he said and left the room.


	11. Chapter 11

Lord Narcisse hurried along the dark corridors, taking long and angry strikes. He tried to keep his annoyance at bay about the currently displayed stubbornness of his wife. Basially, if anyone was to blame for her behavior, it would be he himself. How could anyone in their right mind assume that Catherine de' Medici would submissivly bow to his commands without putting up resistance? And wasn't it her obstinancy and feral untamedness that he loved so much about her? A daring part of him had wanted to know how she would react to his provocation. And she did not disappoint.  
But his actions had only unnecessarily hardened the fronts between them and he was pretty sure that Catherine had already raised her inner walls she had built around her heart as some kind of protective armor. However he hoped that this fortress would not remain impregnable to him.  
The same fire that burned deep within his soul also blazed in her. He has already been on the receiving end of said fire. He only hoped he could reignite his feisty italien wife once again.  
Narcisse wondered how great his life as Lord Chancellor could be with Catherine by his side as his wife- willently in body and mind.

It was outright amazing how fast fate could change one's course of life. During Lola's lifetime he had been fighting a losing battle – against his better judgement and his darkest desire. Nevertheless, the loyalty he should have felt towards his wife had not been big enough to fight the tremendous desire that Catherine was able to arouse with a single snap of her fingers. A desire he still didn't understand.  
For she did not meet the profile of women that usually turned his head. Young women that displayed a well-balanced mixture of innocence, virtue and playing coy was what normally awakened his hunting instincts. The thrilling challenge to seduce a prim young woman. That's what he had found particulary appealing in Lola. Her indignation and her open rejection. Besides, she had been a stunning young Lady.

There were many girls like Lola and he had conquered quite a few of them. But he had never before met a woman like Catherine de' Medici. One who knew what she wanted and was willing to go to extremes to get it. Over the years he had shared his bed with many women. Most of them very young. He would call himself a well experienced lover who had tried everything imaginable and sometimes also unimaginable between the sheets as well as outside. He was a true expert when it came to making love.  
And here it was Catherineas well, who had let him to higher heights and new dimensions of frenetic love-making. Never before did he have a more willing, more passionate partner than his beautiful wife.  
She had completely lacked the kind of tantalising modestly he was normally pulled to. She had equally irritated and bewitched him.

Stephane did not immediately understand what it was that differentiated her from all these inexperienced dolls. But later he realized that all of them had been girls - incredibly young women - unnerved by love and life in general. Catherine, on the other hand, has already carved out a well-deserved place in the world, every inch a woman, a queen in whose life was no room for uncertainties.

And not only in bed did this woman fascinate him. Catherine had a very commanding presence. She just evaporated power. In a room full of people it was impossible not to perceive her right from the first moment. Her stunning appearance and royal attitude made her nearly omnipresent. This, combined with her steel-hard will and her intelligent, hazel eyes, which nothing seems to escape, still made her the most powerful woman in France. When he saw her acting among all those nobles and councilors, he sometimes forgot how petite she actually was. She was a shrimp, particularly when she was laying under him – naked and without her heels.  
And she had curves. Gorgeous, womanly curves that made his fingers tingle as soon as he thought of them. Everything about her was feminine. And the moment he'd laid hands on her for the first time had sealed his fate forever.  
Even after he had married Lola, it were the memories of his hours he'd secretly spent with Catherine that did haunt him. And when his sweet, lovely Lola had been lying beside him in bed - stiff and uncertain – his mind had often wandered back to Catherine, who had been dominating the world of his thoughts during these nights.

Stephane Narcisse paused in front of the King's rooms to regain control over his emotions. Then he knocked at the door of his monarch. But he did not get an answer. After a second, also unsuccessful knock, he simply entered the royal chambers. A stale and sour odor struck him. All curtains were drawn and the few burning candles dipped the room into a dim twilight.  
In the bed, that occupied the main space of this room, he discovered the coild up figure of the king.  
"Your Majesty, aren't you feeling well?" A superfluous question but he asked it anyhow. Charles did not even bother to raise his head. He merely hummed, muttering an incomprehensible reply. There was still no reaction after Stephane repeated his question.

"Charles, if you're not feeling well, I can call for a physician," he offered, although he knew very well that this young man was not suffering from any physical illness. Charles was traumatized by the events that resulted from his kidnapping by the Red Knights and it was his young and heavily damaged spirit, they had to worry about.  
"No, I do not need a charlatan who clobbers me or who forces some other nonsense upon me." Narcisse, who had expected this kind of answer, circled the bed and tampered with the curtains.  
"Then there is no reason for you to stay in bed. You are young, you are the King of France and the whole world lays at your feet. So go out and conquer it. Or at least have dinner with your family. I'm sure your mother is already worried about you." Charles groaned in annoyance but folded his duvet back and sat up in his bed.  
"Doesn't my mother has other worries for the time being? Tell me, Lord Narcisse, does this new marriage suit both of you?"

This theme seemed to interest his monarch, for he straightened up and curiously looked at his Lord Chancellor.  
"It is developing quite promisingly. I certainly will be no less occupied with this arrangement than your mother, my King." Charles nodded absently, then he rose with the verve of a gout-ridden old man.  
"As I've heard you have already made her move into your chambers. I can very well imagine that she did not react particularly enthusiastic about this." Stephane nodded affirmatively while offering Charles an elaborately embroidered jacket and helped him dress.  
"Catherine was far away from being enthusiastic ," he murmured mischievously, gesturing to his protégé to drive his fingers through his tattered hair to get it back in form.  
"That I would have liked to witness myself," his wife's son mused with a crooked smile. "Just look how much this amuses me. Your marriage was a magnificent idea, Lord Narcisse. And now come on, we can't let our family wait any longer." With these words, Charles marched past him, his spirits obviously lifted.  
Stephane quickly lowered his eyes and he firmly pressed his hands against each other until they cracked protestingly. Then he followed his king.  
After all it seems that at least one person was enjoying his marriage.


	12. Chapter 12

Exhausted by a strenuous dinner with his marry-in family and a tiresome discussion with some of the nobles who were concerned about the apparently bad condition of their King, Stephane returned to his chambers. Chambers he did not recognize. For a brief moment he stopped in the doorway to make sure he had actually entered the right door.  
"Stephane, I already feared I might have to go to bed alone." Her ironic tone put a lie to Catherine's words.  
"What for heaven's sake happened to my chambers?" Narcisse asked perplexely.  
His wife put aside the book she was reading and rose from his sofa that was suddenly located in a totally diffrent corner of the room. She came towards him slowly.  
"Our chambers. Have you already forgotten that little detail, my dear husband?" Her voice sounded sickly sweet and Narcisse finally realized what was going on. Catherine had evidently decided to accept their marriage - but on her very own terms. His wife had acknowledged his order to share his quarters with a complete redesign of the premises. Every male accent of these rooms had vanished and given way to overwhelming femininity. 

"I'm sure you don't mind that I have made our chambers a little bit more homely. After all, I have to feel comfortable as well."  
He knew she had deliberately gone over the top with the decoration. There hadn't been such direful pomp in her old rooms.  
"As long as YOU like it, my dear." He could only hope that she would be fed up with this madness of pink blossoms, lace and velvet herself, rather sooner than later.  
"I think I can get used to it," she said with a smile and tried to slip past him.

"You still have plans at this late hour?" Narcisse resisted the urge to put his hand on her arm to prevent her from leaving.  
"No, I'm merely calling my maid." Now he gave in to his urge and stopped her.  
"That won't be necessary, Catherine. I'll help you undress." To his relief she did not free her arm right away but she didn't seem to be pleased about his offer either.  
"As I have already explained: I'm not in the mood!" She merely raised an eyebrow and looked at him with a defiant look. Her answer caused a knowing smile on Stephane's lips.  
"Yes, I already got this the first time. And I'm only offering to help you undress." He would not force her to accept his offer, so he could only hope that she gave in at this point. To improve his chances, he stepped behind his wife and tenderly stroked from her cheek down to her neck with his pointing finger. "Grant your maid a free evening," he whispered into her ear and began to fearlessly strip off Catherine's heavy outer garment.

When she made no effort to stop him, he tenderly caressed the underlying skin. Just when he was going to let her overcoat fall on the floor, Catherine whispered: "Don't you dare dropping it. You offered the services of my maid, then meet these obligations!" Narcisse had to chuckle at her comment and took a bow.  
"As you wish, Your Majesty," he breathed into her ear and hung the garment at it's intended place. With zeal he returned to his wife to loosen the numerous hooks that held her voluminous skirts. When the fabric slowly slid down her body, he reached out to assist Catherine carefully stepping out of her skirts.  
His eyes slid over her half-bared body in delight. When his eyes met hers, she just gestured with a gracefull nod at her discarded skirts for him to hang up properly.

The part soon to follow was Stephane's favorite one. With tardy steps he circling Catherine and he looked deeply into her soulful eyes while passing his new wife to stand right behind her. His hands went to her shoulders on their own accord and he risked a look at her bulging breasts that gently rose at every breath she took and threatened to break out of their prison. It was time to finally release them.   
With skilful fingers he loosened the strings of her corset and couldn't suppress a confident grin when Catherine took a long and relieved breath. He gently peeled her out of her corset and enjoyed the sight she offered him in her thin, nearly see-through chemise in the wan candlelight.  
"How beautiful you are," he whispered awestruck and began to search for the needles that were holding together her strawberry-blond curls.  
"Your flattery will still get you nowhere," his wife informed him, but he thought he could detect a slight trembling in her voice. So his closeness still seemed to hold a certain power over her. That was good news.

To test his theory he ran his fingers playfully from her waist to her sensitive sides. To his delight, he could observe how her nipples hardened at his teasing.  
"Stephane," Catherine whispered and withdrew herself from his touch. He wondered if she would actually resist him.  
"I could get you in the mood," Narcisse suggested with his most charming smile.  
"I said no," she replied more violently than expected and settled down on the chair in front of her vanity. She first gave him a murderous glance through the mirror, then she loosened her hair and took off her jewelry.

Stephane had no choice but watch her from a distance. It seemed to him that he was already in need of making some reparations in order to reconcile with his wife. So he picked up her abandoned corset and draped it over one of the armchairs.  
Without gracing him another look, Catherine walked past him to the adjoining room that was dominated by a giant bathtub. He wondered if she was planning on taking a bath and if he should send word to his servants to bring in hot water, but then he realized that she was merely getting ready for the night. Stephane decided to give her some privacy and readied himself.

He was already in bed when Catherine returned. Invitingly he raised the blanket for her. Narcisse could see that an ironic reply was lying on her tongue, but to his bewilderment she swallowed it and slipped under the blanket. Contrary to his expectation she did not turn her back to him but looked at him expectantly.  
"I do not know if I'll ever get used to sharing my bed with someone."  
Stephane propped himself up on his elbows, studying her.  
"One of the most positive qualities of mankind is our adaptability."  
Catherine let herself fall down on her back, staring at the ceiling.  
"You do not change the habits of an old, stubborn mule anymore."  
"Nonsense, Catherine," he contradicted his wife, slipping his fingers through her soft hair.  
"Do you mean the adaptability of a mule or my comparison?" She sounded slightly amused. A reaction Narcisse welcomed very much.  
"Maybe both. You are neither old nor a mule. Actually you are a true master of adaptation. Stubborn, however, is correct." His answer earned him a low chuckle.  
"Don't be ridiculous. We're both old," she reproached him gently, finally turning to face him.  
"Au contraire, we're looking good for our age."  
"How horrid it has to be for you to no longer have a naive, young lass as a trophy wife," she mused, calmly looking at his fingers that were still playing with her curls.  
"Oh, yes, because it is so dreadful to now call a former Queen my wife - one who is still the most powerful woman in France." Now Catherine straightened and turned to him.  
"So far this former Queen in question was quite sufficient as your secret lover. You, Stephane, want your women young, naive and looking up at you. You can't expect any of that from me."  
"I expect so much more from you, ma Belle."  
"Then I hope disillusion will not blindside you," she said in a frosty voice.  
"Don't worry your pretty head over things that will not happen."

A small, contemptuous snort escaped her throat.   
"Do you really want to argue about future events that none of us has any bearing on?", the lord chancellor asked.  
"I'm not arguing," Catherine explained succinctly. "Believe me, if you find yourself in a serious clash with me, you will notice it."  
"No doubt about that from my side," he certified to his wife who simply muttered "good" and dropped herself back into her pillows.  
Stephane interpreted this as a sign that their conversation had been finished for Catherine. He silently blew out the remaining candle on his night table.


	13. Chapter 13

"I'm worried about Charles. He may break under his reign. People are already getting suspicious." Her words, softly muttered into the darkness, surprised Narcisse.  
"The boy is still traumatized by his kidnapping."  
"Yes, and he is way too young. But unfortunately he was declared to be of full-age so we don't stand a chance of intervening or hiding his condition." Stephane felt some movement besides him and assumed that she sat up in their bed.  
"Catherine, he needs help. And hiding him does neither help your son, nor France."  
He heard another rustle next to him, then the soft echo of her naked soles, moving away from the bed.

"And how in the name of god are we supposed to help him, Stephane? He is still not ready to be king. He doesn't even want to be ready – or be a king to be more precise. His kidnapping and the murder of his friend was terrible, I agree on that and of course I granted him some time to recover. But we cannot forget that he is still king of France. He has to function, period. I can't even remember a time where the hereditary line of the house Valois was more in danger than now. First Henry's madness, then Fancis' untimely passing and now an underaged boy who threatens to drown in melancholy." As soon as the flood of her words had stopped, Stephane crawled out of bed as well to search for his wife in the darkness.  
"You need to give him some time to process all this madness. And don't be too hard on him. He was never prepared to become a king like Francis was. Cut him some slack."

He went on his knees next to the chair where Catherine was sitting and searched for her hand. But she immediately freed herself from his grasp.  
"We do not have the luxury of time. And even if we did- will we have to worry constantly about the kind of impact the next crisis will have on him from now on? A king has to make hard decisions, he has to send men to their deaths. And he needs a certain severity to demonstrate his power. There will always be enemies who will hate you or be out to destroy or even kill you. Rulership requires not only sacrifices, Stephane, but also remorslessness. Do you seriously think Charles contains this strength within himself? I don't think so, if one single kidnapping puts him into this kind of state."  
"You're too hard on him, Catherine. His friend was murdered in cold blood and - as you have said - he is too young for sacrifices of these kind. Experiences like these have the power t otraumatize a sensitive young man. Quite understandably so." What Stephane didn't understand was the harshness of her words. Normally the Queen Mother defended her children like an angry lioness.  
"No, bowing to this weakness is precisely the wrong signal! He does not need our protection, he needs to learn how to defy fate. Otherwise fate strikes him down again and again."  
"Do you listen to yourself, Catherine? Charles needs your sympathy, the comfort of his mother but certainly no further pressure from your side. Or else this will break him!"

Notwithstanding her refusal he grasped her hands firmly into his and drew her towards him. The vehemence of her resistance surprised him so he involuntarily released her again.  
"He has been abducted, Stephane, and released unscathed. I had been held hostage for several years. I've been tortured, ravished, abducted, poisoned, threatened with execution, taken captive, locked into a cage with a tiger. I have carried five of my children to their graves, been accused of murdering one of them... Should I continue? All this a person can bear and carry on without shaddering to pieces." At the end of her emotional speech Catherine's voice got quieter and quieter until Stephane could only hear a faint whisper.  
"Catherine," he hesitated and wasn't sure how to react now. He hadn't expected a revelation of this significance. "You can not compare yourself with your boy! You're the strongest person I've ever met."  
Suddenly Narcisse stopped. Did she say ravished? This would mean that the terrible rumors that have always been circulating around court about her time as a hostage in Florence were true. This realization gave him chills. She had just been a young, innocent child that time.  
"Catherine," he helplessly searched for her in the dark but his hands reached nothing but thin air.

"Oh, please, do not pity me!" Even though her words sounded dismissing, they still expressed something terribly vulnerable. He had only experienced her being ths ivulnerable once before. That time when she had confessed her love to him and served him his beloved horse as a revenge for his treason.  
"Did you ever consider, that not everyone is as strong and unbreakable as you seem to be? Perhaps you should not look at Charles with the eyes of this superhuman queen but with those of a mother", he pointed out.  
Involuntarily he wondered if there had ever been one single person in her life that had just wrapped Catherine de' Medici into a tight embrace and offered her solace. Had she ever seriously confided in someone and had she ever come undone before?  
"Charles must be strong and he can't become a whiny wimp."

Stephane Narcisse spotted his wife in the darkness and slowly walked towards her.  
"As I understand it, a mother's love is the greatest power of all, Catherine. Your son needs you, do not refuse this help." He made another attempt to reach out for her and this time she allowed his touch. So he bravely pulled her into his arms. "You didn't have anyone to lean on back then. But Charles got you. And you are strong. And he is your son. It is no shame to be there for one's family, nor is it a shame to accept the help someone you can trust might offer."  
He gently started rocking her back and forth. "Let's call it a day, shall we, my dear? Tomorrow we still have more than enough time to worry about Charles and France."  
Stephane felt her body tremble slightly in his arms. When he realized that she was nodding, he simply picked her up and carried her to their bed. A faint protest rose from her lips but she remained in his arms without a struggle.

Stephane gently le this wife down on the mattress and slipped in and before she could retreat to her side of the bed he wrapped his arms around her. He knew that she would never voluntary seek his nearness but she tolerated it in her current state by defeating the immediate urge to flee from his embrace. After a few minutes he noticed that the tension had left her body. He even felt her pressing her body closer to his.  
"I'm going to speak to Charles tomorrow," she murmured sleepily against his arm. Stephane ran his fingers over her midsection and buried his nose into her neck.  
"Sounds like a good plan. And if you need my support, please let me know. Good night, my lovely wife."  
"Good night, Stephane."


	14. Chapter 14

As usual, Catherine woke up with the first light of dawn. She yawned heartily and tried to roll over in her bed but found herself immobilized. Something was holding her back. Or rather someone.   
Her husband Stephane Narcisse had wrapped himself around her body like a second skin. His warm chest was pressed tightly against her back and his erection was poking her bottom. In addition, one of his hands was grabbing her right breast. She was not used to this kind of awakening and was unsure about how she should behave. Cautiously she pushed his hands from her body to free herself from his embrace. But his hands immediately reached out for her as soon as she pushed them away.  
"Stephane," she hissed and withdrew herself resolutely from his grasp.  
He muttered something unintelligible, still half-asleep, but let go of her.

The Queen Mother rose and in a soft voice she called for her maids who rushed to her aid. Catherine hoped to be ready in time before Stephane awoke. She wasn't up for another confrontation with her husband so shortly after her emotional outburst. In addition she needed time to come up with a strategy about how to deal with Charles. She hated to admit that Stephane may be right with his assumption that the pressure she exerted might be to intense and had a counterproductive effect on her unstable son.

As expected Charles failed to appear at their breakfast. So she searched for him in his chambers. The boy was still asleep so she woke him in the most sensitive way she could by gently nudging his arm and calling out his name.  
"Mother, is there no place in this castle where I can have some peace and quiet?" He complained immediately without actually looking at her.  
"Is that what you're searching for, Charles? Peace and quiet?", she asked and slowly sat down on his mattress. She studied her son with vigilant eyes who gave his mother a wary glare in return. "Or maybe you need a little distraction? We could arrange a nice little hunting expedition." Catherine hesitated briefly, uncertain how to reach out for her withdrawn son.  
"A hunt with all those pompous lords full of hot air? Seriously? This does not correspond with my idea of distraction." Her son angrily stared at her, his arms defensively crossed in front of his narrow chest. Then he pushed his blanket aside and sat up with some effort.  
"Then tell me what sort of distraction you are looking for and I'll make sure to arrange something for you," she demanded gently yet firmly, watching Charles while he went to his dresser where a bowl of water had been readied for him.

"I have no idea, mother. Something without people who are constantly talking or persisting on something or trying to determine the next course of action – I guess you get the meaning."  
"I see. Something that doesn't require my presence," she concluded. Charles turned to her, opened his mouth as if to say something, but closed it without saying a single word. "I just want to help you, Charles. But that I can only do if you let me help you," she dared a new, keener attemp at getting through to him.  
Her son, however, ignored her words and shook his pale face.  
"I don't need a distraction, I just need to be left alone."  
Now they were back at the beginning of their conversation. Everything in Catherine urged her to end this miserable walk on eggshells but she forced herself to be patience and nodded as understandingly as possible.  
"So peace and quiet it is. Well. We could go to the sea or you could visit our Chateau in Alsace for a while," she offered Charles who was making small waves in the water bowl with his fingers.  
"No, I don't feel like it," he mumbled thoughtlessly and Catherine felt the desire to shake him vigorously to bring him to his senses.  
"And what exactly are you feeling like?", she hissed between her teeth, sounding less understanding than seconds before.  
"I feel like nothing, Mother."

Great, how was she supposed to remain calm with that kind of conversation going on?  
"Maybe a nice ride or a small journey?" She pondered on what else she could possibly offer him. A visit to a brothel maybe? Charles might be young but he was slowly becoming a man no matter how childish he behaved. She was even considering making such a suggestion but couldn't bring these words over her motherly heart.  
"A stay at a monastary to find seclusion and inner peace?", she offered instead, feeling ashamed at her own cowardice. But the more she thought about this suggestion, the less absurd it seemed. She would not call herself a religious woman but she knew there were people who could find solace in religion and the seclusion of a convent. To her surprise her consideration caught Charles' attention, who looked at her with a slight frown.

"A monastery?", he asked skeptically, rubbing his chin deep in thoughts. "Henry and I have always enjoyed our stay at the monastery." All her children had spent some time in monasteries, and she could vaguely remember that particularly Charles and Henry had been fond of it.  
"We could sent for Henry. Perhaps he would like to accompany you", she replied hopefully. Charles expression became avid and all of a sudden she was seeing this small dark-haired boy before her inner eyes that was tussling in the gardens with his younger brother.  
"I'll send him a message right away," Charles explained with ardent zeal and Catherine breathed out a sigh of relief.

She couldn't tell if a stay at said monastery would be able to heal his inner wounds, but the prospect alone gave her new hope.  
"Excellent. How about I'll call for your breakfast first and then take care of the arrangements for your upcoming trip?"  
"Do that, mother. If you'll excuse me now, I have a letter to write."  
Catherine rose and let her fingers run over his arm in a loving gesture. She nodded briefly and hurried to her own chambers to inform the abbot of Reims of the imminent visit of his king.

Stephane did send his regrets for his absence at lunch as some members of the privy council had asked for an extraordinary meeting. So she did not see him until later that day.  
"Catherine!"  
The Queen Mother stopped in her tracks and gave her husband a chance to catch up on her. His black jacket - emblazoned with gold and red embroidery - as well as his tight leather trousers suited him well and harmonized with her own wardrobe that was predominantly kept in gold and bordeaux red with hints of black. They both looked the part of a married couple. They actually made a nice pair – at least on a visual level. If not for their many interpersonal differences.

"What did they want?" She cut right to the chase.  
"They were repeatedly expressing their concern about Charles' mental constitution. Some of them already regret declaring him to be of age." Catherine snorted contemptuously.  
"Now it's too late to whine about their stupid decision."  
"You know how fickle they can be. Come on, take a walk with me," he requested and offered his arm to his wife. Catherine did not feel like taking a walk with Stephane. She feared he might bring up last night's emotional outburst. But when Lord and Lady Delange strolled leisurely towards them, both looking at them with curious eyes, Catherine took Stephane's arm and accepted his offer with a low sigh.

"I assume you've already had your little talk with Charles?" He guessed, opening the door for her that led to the royal gardens.  
"Yes and our conversation was quite positive, contrary to my expectation. I think I actually got through to him." Stephane guided her towards the rose hedges whose petals were already starting to wither.  
"I never doubted you for one second, ma Belle." At these words she freed her arm from his and stopped to look at Narcisse suspiciously.  
"Your appreciative attitude towards my person makes me wonder. So tell me, what do you expect to archieve by doing that, Stephane?" He slowed down as well and looked at her with an intensity that caused her discomfort.  
"I'm just trying to be a respectable husband. And I've been told that it occasionally happens that married partners support each other." She shook her head at his answer and walked on.

"Perhaps in a bad novel, yes. Do I seriously have to remind you that this is only a marriage of convenience in your case and a forced marriage in mine?" Her words sounded cold and bitter.  
"And do I have to remind you that we did agree to try it despite all circumstances and against all odds?" The Lord Chancellor approached the bushes, pulled out a small dagger and cut off one of the last beautiful roses. He gave it to Catherine. The frank smile on his face was warm and charming. She just stared at the flower in her hand, taken by surprise. The rich color of the pestals had the same shade of red like the skirts she were wearing. She had not expected this kind of gesture from her husband. In fact she could not even remember when or whether Henry had ever given her a small gift like fresh flowers. Henry always bought her silence and collusion with expensive jewelry. The mere idea of giving her a single rose had never grossed his mind, of that she was pretty sure.

"And did you come to an agreement with Charles?" Stephan's words interrupted her thoughts. She nodded and moved on at a slower pace.  
"He will seek spiritual consolation in Saint-Remi monastery," she told her husband who looked up surprised.  
"He wants to visit the monastery?"  
"You weren't totally wrong with your guess that Charles just needs time. He needs some personal time to find peace and quiet, far away from court and his obligations. And during his absence we can soothe the fragil egos of councilors and nobles. Pouring oil on troubled water."  
Her husband had caught up with her again and reached for her left hand to put it back on his arm.

"Or maybe we should give them a nice little runaround? We could go on a journey. Together - as a family. We will leave Charles unobtrusively at the monastery and you and I will continue our journey alone. Thus his real place of residence would be better protected. I will take care of the most important government business over there." After this statement his wife firmly pinched his arm.  
"You certainly mean that WE will deal with all kind of government business - together. After all, we want to give this marriage a serious try," she corrected her husband and beat him at his very own game.  
"Of course, my dear. It seems I haven't grown accustomed to our marriage myself. But now we will have a lot of time for each other. This will be our secret honeymoon, Catherine." She freed her arm from his once again and glared at her husband.

"What a charming idea," she said with a voice that was tripping with irony which mad Narcisse laugh.  
"I can see, your joy is boundless." Since she had withdrawn from him, he simply put his arm around her waist and continued to direct her towards the stables. "Let me show you my new stallion Demon. And don't get your hopes up, there will be no more horses on the menu at this court. Not even in case the Queen Mother requests it."  
Upon hearing this, a mischievous smile flashed across Catherine's face and she let him lead her to the stables without resistance.


	15. Chapter 15

Three days later all arrangements for their trip and the King's stay at the Monastery had been made. They hadn't yet received news from Henry but Catherine was sure her son would come and visit his brother should he be able to unclue himself from his current obligations. These two had always been so close to each other as children and she strongly believed that Henry would stand by Charles' side in his time of mental distress.

Catherine supervised the last preparations to make sure all luggage was stowed correctly with nothing forgotten. When everything was prepeared to her satisfaction, the royal entourage began to move. Stephane had saddled his black stallion Demon and rode ahead of the carriage she shared with Charles and her grandchild John. She wasn't sure whether she was upset or relieved. Probably both.  
For a wonder Charles was more talkative than usual and his gloomy mood had lightened a bit. The prospect of a time out apparently had a positive effect on him. The presence of the small child also helped to lighten the tense atmosphere between mother and son. The boy even managed to get a tiny smile out of her otherwise so serious son. A little shimmer of hope, she thought. Perhaps Charles would actually find his peace in the monastery and thus find new strength for the tasks that still awaited him as king.

They arrived at the monastery around noon. The abbot, a devout and warm-hearted monk, greeted them in his usual pleasing manner. To Catherine's utter delight he invited them to a mutual lunch. An invitation she was more than eager to accept.  
But not only Charles, also Stephane seemed at ease and chatted with the clergyman during their light meal. She confined herself to mutely eating up while studying the men at her table.  
After a brief and uncommon sincere farewell from her son, the rest of the group - except some men of the royal guard who stayed behind with their king - continued their way. This time, however, her husband climbed into the carriage after Catherine and sat down on the opposite side.  
"What exactly are you doing here? I thought you preferred the company of your new horse?" She could not help but point out.  
"I should beware of paying more attention to my stallion than my wife. Otherwise he still may end on my plate," Narcisse shot right back at her.

The remaining part of their journey was quite harmonious as they talked about their current government business and surprisingly shared their opinion in most of these cases. But as twilight slowly illuminated the horizon in a beautiful orange-red light, Catherine got restless. Before she could even start complaing about what caused her current unease, Narcisse already knocked against the wall of their carriage and shouted to the coachman:  
"We're going to stop by at the next tavern. Send a rider ahead so they can prepare a good meal and ready some rooms for the night." Looking at Catherine, who was facing him with a raised eyebrow, he said, "If I have learned one thing, it's never to come between Catherine de' Midici and her food."  
She could only agree to this wisdom.

Half an hour later they had finally reached their destination for the day and Catherine was hungrily wolfing down a plate full of steaming chicken, rice and fresh bread. She tried to ignore her husband's gaze that was directed at her throughout their meal.  
After dinner the couple retired to their room while the nursemaid put John to bed. The servants had already brought up some of their luggage. Catherine looked at the small bed with her arms on her hips, then she looked questioning her husband.

"This can only be some kind of a mistake. They brought your luggage to my room as well. Servants!" Stephane just shook his head.  
"No, this is not a mistake but our shared room," he informed her.  
"Impossible! Just look at this tiny bed," the Queen Mother pointed accusingly at the little annoyance in the middle of the room. Her husband provocatively lay down on it and looked up at her, a big mischievous grin on his face.  
"A pretty common marital bed, as ordinary couples share them. Don't you worry, it will be sufficient. If you're exhausted from our journey I'll let them draw you a bath," he offered and sat back into an upright position.

Catherine would have killed for a hot bath but the prospect of even more intimacy in this cramped room did not please her very much. She knew the Lord Chancellor well enough to be aware of the fact that he had not made this proposal out of selflessness. His intentions of the last few days had been of a quite amorous nature and she had her hands full to keep his eager ones at bay during the night. That hadn't been an easy task, as her traitorous body was more than willing to react to his presence and constant touching.

Just as she wanted to reject his offer with a snappy reply, the door opened and one of his servants inquired about their wishes.  
"Prepare a hot bath for my wife," the lord chancellor decided over her head.  
"No! There is no need. I don't require a bath. Send in my maid, I want to prepare for bed." Her imperious tone did not allow any further discussion. After the man left their room she huffed angrily in Stephane's direction: "I am not an abulic doll. So please stop treating me as one. I am more than capable of making my own decisions."  
"Catherine, I just wanted to do you a favor," Stephane said perplexely and rose from the bed.

"If and when I'm going to take a bath is only for me to decide," she informed him matter of factly.  
"Do you always have to be so terribly stubborn? What is exactly the problem when a man wants to draw his wife a nice bath after a long day?" Narcisse sounded irritated now.  
"This is not difficult to understand! Don't make any decisions for me and we won't have any problem at all."  
"We're just talking about a bath, Catherine. I did not incapacitate or deprive you of the right of decision for gods sake. Maybe I just wanted to do you a favor? A small relief after a long and exhausting day. Do you need to make a mountain out of a molehill once again?"  
"If you want me to be patronized, then of course," she replied stubbornly.  
"Of course. You know, I'm really trying, Catherine. I'm being generous, charming and attentive, but you block all attempts on my part to make this marriage work. I really do not know what's gotten into you." He sounded perplex as well as annoyed.  
"Perhaps you should put less effort into this marriage if it annoys you this much."  
"You and your defense are annoying me. Not this marriage in general you refuse to accept."

Catherine, who had just been looking for her requirements for the night, stopped dead in her movement.  
"So finally we got to the true bottom of your problem. You want sex!" Now Stephane's irritation was clearly written on his face. But Catherine did not pay any attention to his facial expressions and dropped her bed-clothes with a theatrical sigh. "Fine, let's get it over with," she hissed, pulling her skirts up and let herself fall onto the bed on her back.  
"Don't be ridiculous, Catherine." She furiously rose again and glared at her husband.  
"It's you who's being ridiculous. You don't want to be trapped in this marriage any more than I do. You're just looking forward to having great sex on a regular basis. The only difference are our respective rights. You have all of them, I only have the rights you grant me."

Narcisse, who had begun to walk up and down in front of the bed, looked at his wife with a grim face.  
"You – of all women in the world – are the last plausible one to be directed by any man, not even if this man happens to be your husband. I would really like to understand - what's your problem with this arrangement? You've been married to Henry for over 20 years and I'm pretty sure you have claimed your rights. What's so different now?" She could see that he really wanted to understand where her reservations lay, but how was she going to make him understand something she couldn't wrap her mind around either?  
"An outrageous difference!", she still gave it a try. "You insist on shared chambers, that we share a bed and you have the illusion of a real marriage. But this means my loss of independence. I..." A knock at the door interrupted the Queen Mother. She called out for her maid in relief. Fortunately Narcisse tropped the subject. At least for the moment.

Her husband adressed her once again the second her maid had left the room.  
"Come to bed, Catherine." His demand sounded harsh and toneless while he started to undress. She ignored his order and tried to stare him down. Stephane, however, was not deterred by her angry glare. As if he had all the time in the world he finished undressing, washed away the sweat and dirt from their journey and slowly came towards her. With a quick movement he grabbed her by the arm and dragged his irritated wife to their bed. 

"So if you're not interested in a harmonious, amicable marriage, we'll just do it your way. I'm not a very restrained man and you've just pushed my patience to the limit." Catherine was pushed to the bed with pure force. But he left her no time to react but firmly pressed her down into the mattress with his weight. A few seconds later his hard lips claimed hers. Catherine pressed her hands against his chest with all her strength but was unable to push his hard body off of hers.

"Stephane, what the hell are you doing?", she hissed, biting his lip. She tasted his blood on her tongue but her assault didn't stop him. He attacked her breast instead. "Stephane, stop it - immediately!" Her voice sounded less firm than she would have wished for.  
"Why? Do you want to deny me what is legally my right as your husband?" He whispered dangerously close into her ear and spread her legs with his knee.  
"What happend to your idea of a harmonious marriage? Rape does not add to that!" Catherine cried out breathlessly and tried to get rid of him in vain.  
"Rape? Oh putain! Not very likely. You're my wife, Catherine, so I am perfectly entitled to bed you." She felt his fingers glide along her thigh.  
"I swear to you if you don't stop right now..." she did not finish her sentence because her husband violently put her arms up over her head and threateningly looked down at her.

"Yes, then I am that kind of husband who simply takes what is supposed to be his. Who does not care about his wife's well-being, who does not respect her, neither honours her." As quickly as he had grabbed her, he also let go of Catherine and gave her the opportunity to get out of his grip. "But I am not that kind of man. I do not force women to sleep with me. Especially not my own wife. I respect you and I expect the same in return. Yeah, I'm not Henry and maybe you should ask yourself if this isn't actually a good thing. Because unlike him I intend to be a good husband. So think about what you want, ma Belle. Because if it is indifference, a certain lack of respect and disregard, then we should really rethink our agreement. Good night, Catherine."  
He did not even give her the chance to react to his fiery speech but jumped out of bed, reached for his clothes and angrily left the room while slamming the door loudly.


	16. Chapter 16

Stephane nearly didn't slept at all that night. His lip still burned from where she had bitten him but he welcomed the pain. After he had drowned his frustration downstairs with a few goblets of wine he had returned to their shared room. Catherine feigned being asleep but her uneven breathing gave her away. She had turned her back on him and lay on the outer edge of the mattress to avoid any contact. Stephane was trying to ignore Catherine by all means but his thoughts still revolved around this incredibly stubborn and frustrating woman he had married.

He just couldn't understand how different she behaved since the day they were wed. She was not only being prickly and uncooperative, she acted in the most bizarre way. Not like her usual self. And that worried him. Normally Catherine did not behave self-destructively but her wound up idea of their marriage made her act irrational as well as completely inaccessible.  
The unfortunate outcome of this evening showed it all too clearly. And her obstinacy did also have an effect on his actions. He was afraid he might have gone too far. He knew that he would never take her against her will, but did she known this as well?

In retrospect he was shocked how easily he got carried away by the ruthless tactic he came up with. For no matter how tough and strong Catherine was, she had just opened up to him three days ago and admitted that she had been a victim of sexual violence in her youth. He had to ask himself what kind of husband he was if he still threatened her with a forced consummation of their marriage despit this knowledge and that he would never harm her or take her against her will? He was ashamed for his intemperate behaviour but he did not know how to master this situation anymore. What was so special about this woman that brought out the worst in him? Over and over again.

Perhaps it was for the best to ignore her until her permanent resistance died away? If she eventually understood that he was not pursuing a hidden agenda, perhaps she could engage in their changed relationship. There was only one thing he knew for sure:  
Whoever forced Catherine de' Medici to do something against her will should never turn his back to her afterwards if his life was dear to him. She pushed endangerment ahead of herself like a bow wave which made her all the more desirable in his eyes. He could only hope not to fall into her fairway.

Though Charles had assured him that he held his mother personally responsible for his well-being, he still knew that if he pushed Catherine between a rock and a hard place she would still close in for the kill if she felt compelled to do so. And he did not want to carry matters too far because he clung to his life.

Getting more and more frustrated by each passing second, Stephane rolled over and promptly bumped into his wife who instantly stiffened. He uttered a deep, indefinable sound and moved away from her. A thousand words lingered on his tongue, excuses and reproaches alike, but he swallowed them all - unspoken. He would have liked to attempt a reconciliation but her reaction to his accidental touch had quickly taught him better. His best course of action was probably to outright ignore her. He was sure Catherine couldn't handle ignorance well.

One did not simply ignore Catherine de' Medici with impunity. He even briefly considered releasing her of the obligation of living in the same chambers, but he decided against it. If he offered his wife her own space as refuge she would fully retreat. And that was the exact opposite of what he was striving for.

Maybe his new tactic would lead his wife in the direction he would like to see her. Willing, brilliant, unwavering - and at his side.


	17. Chapter 17

When Catherine awoke in the morning, her husband had already left the room. She still felt exhaused and the thought that discussions like the one they had last night would be an inherent part of her life from now on made her even more tired.  
She called for her maid to get ready for the last part of their journey and to clear away the cobwebs.

A tasty breakfast was already awaiting the Queen Mother in the parlour. As well as little John and his Nanny. But there was no trace of Narcisse. But she didn't bother worrying about his whereabouts and started eating. Just as she had put the last bite of her breakfast into her mouth, Stephane's lapdog Fabrice Darntelle rushed towards her.

"We can leave once you've finished. Your husband did already ride ahead." Catherine let her spoon sink and stared at the dark haired man in disbelief. So Stephane did not even bother waiting for her to arise? Annoyance and grievance burned a painful feeling into her stomach.  
But then she remembered how violent their last quarrel had escalated and she was suddenly glad for the chance to avoid his intrusive presence for the next few hours.  
"Fine. So what are we waiting for?" She asked sharply while rousing her maid and the nanny with a single movement of her hand. She gently lifted up her grandson who had silently been playing on the floor next to her and meanwhile pulled himself up at her skirts. Ignoring Fabrice, Cathrine stalked out to the waiting carriage that arrived three hours later at their final destination.

In the meantime heavy clouds had darkend this bright autumn day and a low rumbling was already to be made out in the distance.  
"Marvellous, even the weather adapts to my mood," Catherine muttered and stepped out of her carriage whilst looking skeptically into the sky that already opened its water gates. To her displeasure there were only two young maids awaiting the arrival of their new mistress who clumsily curtseyed. As well as a pockmarked young man who choose to ignore her but took the reins of the horses instead to look after the animals.  
"Well, get moving and get the babe and our luggage inside", she bellowed as the first raindrops started to fall.

She grabbed her skirts in annoyance and ran towards the chateau as fast as her uncomfortable shoes would allow it. Nonetheless her bright silver dress was complely soaked by the time she reached the main entrance. On the threshold of the doorway a servant rushed towards her, holding out an open umbrella. Catherine growled at him with a murderous frown only to bump against her husband's broad chest who hurried through the hall with long strides. Stephane was wearing weatherproof riding cloth and a grim facial expression.  
Catherine couldn't imagine a more unfavorable moment for a reunion with her husband. Dripping wet with ruined hair and obviously out of breath.

"There you are. Don't wait for me with lunch. I will inspect my new lands and won't be back before sunset," he informed her with a neutral tone in his voice.  
"But it's raining cats and dogs," she pointed out confused. Narcisse only waved off her objection.  
And before Catherine knew it she was standing alone in the big entrance hall. Outside another thunder broke the silence. Apparently her husband even preferred a thunderstorm over his wife's presence. How could things have come so far?

Snorting, she ordered the valet to show her the lordy chambers to get out of her wet dress. After she had changed her clothes, Catherine started exploring the amply Chateau that would be her home for the next few weeks. Then she supervised her servants while they unpacked their belongings and redecorated the rooms. After a short visit to the kitchen and instructing all attendants about her expectations about how this house should be kept during her stay, she ordered a light lunch.

As it stopped raining in the early afternoon, Catherine strolled around the abudant gardens. After a while she slowly turned around to look indecisively at the imposing chateau from a distance.

When was the last time she indulged in idleness? There have always been crises, demanding subjects or family complications eating up her days. So most of the time she even lacked the energy to pursue the one thing she really loved before going to bed - reading. But here, far away from court and the exhausing duties and problems brought with it, she felt completely idle all of a sudden. What did other women do the whole blessed day? Women who did not have to run the fate of France behind the back of their husbands or sons. Women who didn't have to prevent conspiracys or hatch plots against enemies of the crown. Not to forget learning the fine arts of poisoning.

She had always loathed tedious girly stuff as she had no patience for dull needlework. So she had taken delight in her time spend with her children instead. She had enjoyed playing with them, reading books to them or watching them frolic around the royal gardens. But they had grown out of these carefree years where they had showered their mother with blind and unconditional love. The only child left in her care was little John, her grandson, whom she loved as if he were her own babe but the boy was just taking his midday nap.

And she had enjoyed going for a ride where she felt the wind toying with her loose hair, arousing a sense of freedom and levity. The tought alone mad her miss running her fingers through silky warm fur and feeling the powerful movements of a horse under her saddle. But these bithe times were gone. For a long time. Because queens weren't supposed to go for a ride – with riding pants, deranged hair and all on her own. But the idea of riding out with a small troop of guards had been so unappealing that she dismissed it right away.

Engrossed in her thought, she hadn't noticed that she was standing in front of the stables now. The unmistakable smell of horses, fresh hay and dung that reached her nostrils evoked some further memories. A quiet snort brought her to enter the stables curiously. In the first box she spotted Demon, Stephan's magnificent stallion.

The horse looked at her, cocking his ears. So she walked over to him and gently petted the soft nose he stuck towards her trustingly. Next to the stallion stood a petite chestnut mare whose ears were lying flat in alert as soon as Catherine approached her. The animal eyed her suspiciously and did not let herself be lured closer by Catherine's gentle words. So the Queen Mother took a handful of oats and offered them to the timid animal. The mare approached her only hesitantly with a strung out neck but then she took a chance with the prospect of a nice treat.

"Brave girl," she praised the animal but did not make any further move to touch the horse, merely offering the food in her palm. Slowly the mare took the corn with pointed lips. It was not until the last grain had been swallowed and the chestnut horse didn't retreat, when Catherine carefully stroked her neck. The feeling of the soft hair between her fingers suddenly aroused the overwhelming desire to ride the mare.  
She intended to ask the equerry to saddle her for a ride in the next few days. If she was stranded here in Normandy, she could as well advance her riding skills.

"What do you think of a nice little ride, precious? Just you and I," she whispered in a cheerful mood and was promptly nudged by the mare. Swaying slightly she laughed: "I'll take that as your approval."  
After Catherine had returned to her chambers, she wondered what she was going to wear while riding. Unfortunately she had neglected to pack a fitting riding dress so first and foremost she would have to improvise and then sent for her favorite dressmaker as soon as possible.


	18. Chapter 18

The sight Stephane was greeted with equally surprised and delighted him on his return. His wife sat with wide-spread skirts on the thick carpet in the big hall and piled little towers of building bricks with John. She was so engrossed in the play with the little boy that she didn't even notice his arrival. Catherine's features were incredibly soft and a warmth exhaled from her eyes that gave her entire face a radiant glow.  
"You want to put that block her? OK. No, wait, that ... oh, now our tower tumbled down again." John's little red-cheeked face shone with joy and he chuckled happily when the blocks collapsed. "You think that's funny, my angel? Do we want to build a new tower? Yes?" The laughter of the child mingled with that of his grandmother.  
John reached for two of the wooden bricks and placed one of them on top of the other, his little tongue hanging out in concentration. Then he handed Catherine another log and climbed on her lap. With a tender smile she lowered her head and placed an affectionate kiss on the boy's blond head. When she looked up again she spotted her husband who stood motionless in the doorway, watching both of them.

"You're back already," she said softly and with delight he noted that the icy frost that so often accompanied her words had disappeared.  
"Yeah, have you had dinner yet?" He asked gently as not to disturb the child.  
"Ciss!", John shouted excitedly at his sight. He slid down from Catherine's lap and tapped to the chancellor with a cry of joy. Stephane saw the astonished look on his wife's face while she seemed to absorb each of his movement. He smilingly went down to his knees to embosom John in a hug.

During the journey from England to France the little fellow had grown dear to his heart and it seemed as if John felt the same.  
"Hello, big boy. How was your day? Did you have a good time with Catherine?" He gave his wife a timid smile, a smile she returned to his amazement.

"Yes, he did. And it's almost time for bed now. Do say good night to Stephane, John." The child buried his face in Narcisse's neck and shook his little blond head no. Stephane chuckled.  
"Obviously he's looking at it in a diffrent way. Come on my little friend, we are going to build one last tower and then you'll go to sleep." With these words he rose with the child in his arms and came over to Catherine to sit down next to her on the carpet.

Together they erected another tower that John eagerly caused to collapse afterwards. Then Catherine called for the nurse who took the boy to bring him to bed. Narcisse rose again and offered Catherine his hand to give her a leg-up.  
"You didn't answer my question. Have you had dinner yet?"  
"No, I've been waiting for you." At this revelation he looked at her in astonishment, however he was glad about this little sign of her relenting.  
"Why don't you inform the kitchen that they should start preparing dinner and in the meantime I'll change my clothes?" He pointed to his dirty wardrobe and received an approving nod from his wife.

Half an hour later the couple sat down in their dining room, two plates of steamy delicacies their chef had conjured in front of them. Like him Catherine had also changed and was now wearing a beautiful azure dress with a daring neckline and delicate silver embroidery that looked incredibly good on her. His wife was a sight for sore eyes, like always.  
"How was your ride?" She asked after a few minutes and eyed one of the meat skewers he had not yet touched. "Are you going to eat this?", she wanted to know and pointed at the object of desire with her fork. With an inviting gesture he pushed his plate towards her.  
"Go ahead, whatever's mine is yours." Even before he had finished his sentence she had already swapped the spit from his plate to hers. With a single movement she pulled the meat from the skewer and put the first piece into her mouth with a blissful expression. For an inexplicable reason he loved the fact that one could make Catherine happy by feeding her. A fact he had to remember.  
"These estates are not only extensive, they are also quite beautiful. I will take you on a nice carriage ride, so I can show you our seigneury. I'm pretty sure you will love the area."  
So much for his plan to ignore his wife, he thought. But how should he be able to ignore this beautiful and all of a sudden accessible creature?

"In fact I would actually prefer a horseback ride," Catherine said and put another piece of meat into her mouth.  
"You want to go for a ride?" Narcisse could not hide his surprise.  
"Why? Is this idea genuinely uncommon?"  
"No, not at all but apparently you never stop to amaze me. Okay, let's go for ride tomorrow." He never thought a Catherine de' Medici would prefer a horseback ride over one in a comfortable carriage. But he was looking forward to the prospect of being able to spend time with her this way.  
He didn't know what caused her agreeable, he would even say tame behavior, but whatever it was, he welcomed it.

As the mood between them was still relaxed after the dessert has been served, he offered to take her for a short postprandial walk.  
"Why not?," she murmured, taking the hand he offered her. Together they left the chateau and peacefully strolled through the gardens.  
"There's a small lake on the east side. We should go there with John one day. He will love it. It's the perfect place to romp around, learn to swim or for fishing."  
Catherine, her arm still tucked into his, looked up at him under her long lashes.  
"It's a bit odd. Although I know you have several grown-up sons, I have never seen you as a father figure."  
"Maybe I am full of surprises as well?" Narcisse joked. He led her to the rose garden and suddenly had a feeling of déjà-vu. He darted a look at his wife. Just at this moment a slight shiver captured her body. It had cooled down noticeably. Without thinking he loosened her arm from his and took off his jacket to put it gently over Catherine's slim shoulders. He prefered a little freezing rather than letting this beautiful and almost harmonious walk come to an end. Her low and rather perplexed sounding "thank you" was hardly audible, so he gave her a hopefully charming smile and continued their stroll.

"Whenever I look at John I can't help but wonder about how fast the years go by. We're getting old, Stephane." The deep sight that accompanied her words sounded resigned.  
"No, my dear. We are in the prime of our lifes. Maybe we are too old to have a child of our own but we have already done our duty in this respect. Perhaps we should simply foreground the benefits of our life experience and let the less experienced share in our knowledge? And we are certainly not too old for the true pleasures of life."  
"Why ever does it always have to come back to this one topic? Sex." Catherine did not even sound upset that he brought up this topic, she merely seemed confused.  
"This, ma Belle, is because we are quite good together when it comes to this special kind of physical exercise. And quite honestly, Catherine, there is no reason not to give in to this attraction that's still between us. For no matter what may have happened in the past, in bed we both speak the same language."

He would have liked to pause for a moment just to look at her. Or kiss her to be more precise, but he did not want to jeopardize the fragile peace they have achieved since his return.  
"It is not the sex that stands between us but our different expectations, Stephane. The sex has always been good. But we cannot build our marriage on such unstable footing."

And all of a sudden it began to dawn on Narcisse what seems to be Catherine's problem. It was in fact not the physical level of their union that unnerved her. They were actually quite compatible in this perspective. She had an issue with the emerging intimacy he constantly required. Catherine wasn't scared of physical closeness but of emotional intimacy.  
Her affectionate interaction with her children and the tender way she had played with John showed him that she was still capable of love. But she did not want to grand men with this kind of concession. Or maybe she couldn't, at least not anymore.  
Involuntarily he had to ask himself if her loveless marriage to Henry Valois was partly to blame for her withdrawal. His sordid double game was probably the last straw that made her turn her back on love.

But all this would explain her strange behavior. Sharing chambers, sleeping in the same bed or allowing him to undress her - all this created intimacy. An intimacy she was fighting tooth and nail. In addition he also threatened her independence. Another asset his wife treasured.  
There had been a time when she had willingly accepted all kind of intimacy from him. But this time ended with his betrayal and sowed distrust between them. She had literally thrown her love at his feet and the both of them had walked all over her bleeding heart.

In principle he shouldn't be surprised at Catherine's attitude. After this eclat things had significantly changed between them. She still welcomed him in her bed, probably to get her revenge by cuckolding his former wife but she had built a fortress around her heart. And he was arrogant enough to believe that she protected and defensed herself with such vehemence because he still possessed some power over her heart.  
Intimacy created closeness and too much closeness results in emotions and feelings.

"Are you still trying to grasp the core of my statement or did your male mind already switch off after hearing the word sex?", she mocked him with a smug grin and tore Stephane from his musing.  
"Excuse me, my dear. Probably both," he lied for the sake of simplicity and not to complicate the situation any further.  
"Men," Catherine muttered and rolled her eyes at him.  
"This particular man is now in need of some good wine. Care to join me?", he asked cautiously. Catherine nodded in agreement.

Stephane poured two generous cups of his best red wine and handed one to his wife.  
"To untroubled times, Catherine," he raised a toast.  
"It's in your hands," she said and took a first sip, looking challenging at him over the rim of her goblet.  
"In our hands," he corrected her mildly and for the first time he realized how much he liked the thought that Catherine was now connected to him and they actually had an "our". Now he only needed to find a way to whet his wife's appetite of this new "our". But he had to proceed with more caution and understanding than before. Increasing the intimacy in small doses to avoid smothering her. And perhaps occasionally soften her with sweet treats.

When she got up half an hour later to retire to their chambers, he surprised her with a suggestion.  
"I need to finish an important document. Why don't you go ahead and I'll be upstairs in half an hour?" He hoped this allowed her enough space to ready herself without feeling harried once again.

And his plan worked. When he entered their room half an hour later he found his wife already lying in bed, a book in her hands. She briefly looked up at him but immediately became engrossed in her book once again while he readied himself for the night.

This time there was no heated discussion and the good-night kiss he stole from her lips was sweet and willingly returned.  
All of a sudden a new confidence took hold of him that sooner or later Catherine would get used to his presence in her bed. And then there would be the possibility of sex and tenderness, of that he was convinced now.


	19. Chapter 19

"Boy, hurry up and saddle two horses. Demon and one of the quiet brown geldings." Lord Narcisse instructed the stable-lad after the have had their breakfast. Before the young man could haste to the stables to comply with his duties, Catherine floated down the stairs, her skirts swinging freely. Her dress was jade coloured and less elegant and formal than her usual wardrobe. Apparently she had also forgone a corset, which would have been unconfortable and a hindrance for a ride.  
"No, saddle the chestnut mare for me," she ordered while briefly raising her skirts to check the fit of her boots.  
"If you pardon my saying so, my lady, Liberté is a bit impetuous. Maybe you should..."  
"I said, saddle the chestnut mare." His wife interrupted the blushing boy briskly.  
"Yes, my lady, of course," the youth stammered and ran off to the stables.  
Stephane refrained from giving any comment. He was sure that his stubborn wife would either exellently get along with the equally stubborn mare or not at all.

He insisted on helping Catherine on the mare's back, meanwhile enjoying the delightful sight of her fabulous derriere. She sorted her skirts and he got onto his own horse, then the couple trotted off unhurried.  
Catherine and the mare harmonized perfectly well and Stephane could witness how much horse and rider became one with each passing minute. After a while they went over to a full gallop, flying over wide fields and rolling hills. He had to severely spur Demon to not be left behind by Catherine on Liberté.  
And once again his wife surprised him. She was not only a passable rider, no, Catherine de' Medici rode as if she was possesed by the devil himself. Daring, with a refreshing casualness and glowing cheeks, she incited her mare more and more and raced towards a wide stream that she crossed with an elegant jump. It was a pure joy to watch her in her element.  
They only decelerated their speed once they have reached the small lake he had spoken of earlier. Their horses came to a halt at the waterfront, snorting and dripping with sweat.

"How many other secret talents are you hiding from me?" He asked with a wink and helped his wife descend from Libertè. Not that she needed any help, he just wanted to be close to her. In order to savour this moment to the full, he let her slide into his arms as slowly as possible. He didn't even release her once her feet touched the lawn but stole a kiss instead.  
"You devil woman," he murmured approvingly against her lips. Narcisse adjusted his gaze to get a better look at Catherine. Some of the strands of hair had loosened from her hairdo after their wild ride and framed her blushing face in a lovely way. She looked incredibly free and untamed. And breathtakingly beautiful.

"You like that?" Catherine whispered and her lips nearly touched his, but she did not initiate another kiss.  
"I like you, ma Belle."  
"You're so easy to impress." To his delight she still did not free herself from his arms. So he raised his hands to gently touch her face.  
"Au contraire. It's only you who manages to amaze me time and time again. How in the name of god do you do that?" Stephane couldn't handle it any longer and reduced the distance between them to finally kiss her. This time a proper and real kiss, no chaste peck. A hot-blooded, breathless kiss that lovers shared. A kiss that asked for more and that was passionately returned by Catherine.

He tumbled a few steps, his wife still in his arms. When he let himself fall backwards into the grass, Catherine cried out in surprise and was swept along. Before she realized what was happening or even think about stopping him, his fingers already began loosening the lacing of her dress.  
The breathless moan that escaped her lips while his fingers brushed her breasts incited him even further. He wanted to feel her, shower her soft skin with thousands of kisses and let his hands wander freely and unhindered all over her body. And while he was impatiently trying to peel her out of this baulky dress, her little hands were already making quick work with his clothes, urgently tearing at his shirt. 

Stephane drove his tongue over the exposed skin of her cleavage that rose and fell under his lips in a fast rhythm.  
"Catherine," he murmured against her heated skin when in response her fingers started to play with his chest hair. They slowly wandered over and playfully circled his right nipple.  
He urgently pushed up her skirts and while his own fingers gently tested her readiness, her hands dug themselves almost painfully into his chest. A sweet pain he willingly welcomed. So he continued with his own sweet torture of teasing her. When Catherine could stand his sensual assault no longer, her hands searched for the buttons of his leather pants. She impatiently pushed his trousers down from his hips to his knees. His freed erection jumped to her attention and she did not need another invitation before her fingers closed around his heated flesh.  
"Oh my god," Stephane groaned hoarsely, risking a glance down his body. The sight of her delicate small hand stroking up and down his penis drew a deep animalic rumble from his throat.

All of a sudden he remembered how indescribably beautiful and amazon-like she'd looked on the back of her horse a few minutes before. The idea of watching her riding him was so overpowering that he clasped her hips and rolled her on top of him.  
Catherine stared down at him in irritation by this change of position, but then a knowing smile spread over her lips that were wonderfully swollen from his kisses.

With a happy grin on his face Stephane let go of her hips which caused his wife to slowly slide down his erection. He watched her pushing one of her hands between their bodies to ease his penetration.  
When he was buried into her to the hilt, Stephane reached into Catherine's nape to gently pull her head down for another kiss. He tried to savor this first moment of their union, the amazing feeling of being buried in her so deeply, but then the desire to move took an upper hand.

"Ride me, ma Belle," he said hoarsely and lifted her with his hands on her hips to demonstrate what he needed her to do. When he felt himself nearly slipping out of her body he paused for a second or two until he urged her back down into his lap. There was no need for any further invitation. Catherine lay her hands on his chest for a better hold and rose from his lap on her own. She waited for a moment of sweetest agony and sank back down on his member, slowly impaling herself. They both groaned in unison.  
"Yes, just like that," he moaned and busied his hands under her skirts to grasp her ass. This gave him the opportunity to speed up her movements. Stephane buried his fingers in the warm flesh of her behind.  
The sight she offered him was enchanting. Her hair was a beautiful mess, her cheeks were glowing, lust was shining in her dark eyes and her naked breasts gently swayed with each of their movements. He leaned forward and catched her left nipple with his lips, gently sucking on it until it turns into a tight little knob. Catherine uttered a throaty howl and arched her back.  
"Faster, ma Belle," he demanded excitedly and her nipple slipped out of his mouth. He eagerly looked for it's twin. First he licked over it and then he pulled it between his lips as well.  
She rose and lowered her body faster and faster until he felt her thighs begin to tremble under the strain.

Stephane rose to an upright position which pressed her silky breasts against his upper body and her slightly opened mouth was once again within reach of his own lips. Narcisse closed his eyes and nearly came undone by the indescribable emotions this woman - his wife - arouse in him. His lips found hers and he kissed Catherine as if there was no tomorrow.  
Suddenly he felt her inner walls contract and it costed him all of his self-control not to come at once. He kept her from moving with his strong hands as her body above him trembled and began to implode in ecstasy. The twitching tightness that suddenly milked his penis, prompted him to feverishly thrust into herba few more times. Then he gave in to this exquisite sensation and bursted into a tremendous explosion of wildest pleasure.


	20. Chapter 20

Stephane collapsed feebly into the grass and dragged Catherine with him. Their hearts were hammering wildly against their ribcages and he loved the sensation of feeling her sweaty and exhausted body that was trembling softly in his arms. There was no woman on earth who harmonized better with him in amorous matters than Catherine de' Medici. His stubborn, unfaltering wife.   
The grip of his fingers on her buttocks loosened some but Stephane didn't want to release her warm flesh just yet so his fingers started to caress her soft skin there all the way up to her hips. He loved the soft texture of her skin, the gentle curves that were just created to fit into his hands.

On her face was that little tired but overall satisfied smile he hadn't seen for quite some time. One that made the question whether it has been good for her completely superfluous.  
"I have missed that," he whispered in a husky voice. "I have missed you."  
At this revelation Catherine's right eyebrow shot up and she straightened to look at him with a piercing glare.  
"I hope you do not plan to make a habit of this kind of sweet talk after having admittedly good sex. This kills the mood." He felt her move over him and in doing so his slackened penis slipped out of her body.  
"Who's telling you it's not quite simply the truth, Catherine?" He wanted to know and fought against feeling insulted by her words.  
"If this reflects the truth, then you have chosen the worst possible way of showing me."  
All of a sudden that dreamy, almost happy expression had disappeared from her face. Though her cheeks were still glowing, however her eyes shone down at him coldly and her lips became a thin line.

Before Narcisse could even react, Catherine rose and tugged wildly at the front cords of her dress to cover her bare breasts.  
"Is this the moment when you're going to accuse me again of obtaining intercourse?"  
How was it possible that this woman could send completely different signals from one second to the next?  
If Catherine were a month, then she most certainly would be the capricious and unsteady April. Only she could manage to beat all seasons down on him on one single day. Just now she had impressively demonstrated a change from a stunningly bright spring day to an arctic blizzard.

"No, Stephane, maybe I just want to remind you that I am not some naive little girl you have to schmooze or dish up some lame sentiments for keeping her in a good mood." Stephane rose as well and straightened his clothes.  
"I was not schmoozing you, I merely told you that I've missed you. Is that so despicable?" He wondered why she had to weight all of his words so precisely and misinterpreted every single one on purpose.  
"If it sounds like it's all my fault from your mouth, then yes. You have made your choices a long time ago. You've married Lola, then you threw me to the wolfes and you've accepted this marriage only for one good reason - to satisfy your need for power. So please don't insult me. Maybe you've missed good sex, but certainly not me, Stephane." Catherine did not even wait for his reaction but marched off in anger to get her mare who was grazing peacefully beside Demon at the shore.

Narcisse stormed off after his wife and roughly pulled at her wrist for her to face him again. Basically he wasn't a man who handled women with force or physically pushed her around, but Catherine was able to provoke such a behaviour in the blink of an eye. She mad him feel powerless, which led to such uncontrolled actions from his side.  
"Has your heart already turned to stone that you immediately have to go into defensive mode upon hearing me say such a harmless and value-free comment? Am I not allowed to miss you despite the fact that Lola was my former wife before I married you? I think there is no denying that there is still something between us. Something that's deeper than some meaningless affair."

The angry sparkle in her eyes and her rigid posture with her chin raised up defiantly, frustrated and excited him at the same time. Stephane pulled Catherine closer to him but she resisted him and grabbed the reins of the mare instead, who took an reluctant step back at this rude treatment.  
"Is it too much to ask to finish this exhausing discussion once and for all instead of fleeing in the spur of the moment?" The Lord Chancellor had to grindingly contain himself as not to lose his composure over the mulishness his wife displayed.  
"There is nothing left to discuss. Your view significantly differs from mine. And that will not change. So just leave it be." Meanwhile Catherine had positioned herself right beside her horse and before her husband could even wonder whether she could get on the mare without his help, she had already unladylike pushed her skirts aside and leaped onto the animal. Catherine de' Medici obviously didn't need any help from any man, even less when the man in question was her husband.

"Catherine," he snarled angrily but she already rammed her heels into the mare's flanks so her horse galloped off with a graceful jump. "One day, I swear to you, I will put you over my knees and knock some sense into you!", he shouted after her.  
His threat made her look back at him one last time. Then she provocatively yelled:   
"Just try it... nothing more but empty words."  
Stephane cursed in annoyance and mounted his own horse. No, he would not pursue her. By all means, should she rage and sulk. Sooner or later she would calm down. If there was one thing he had on his side, then it was time. He would find ways to tame his temperamental and stubborn wife. And the way he knew his Catherine, she would not make this an easy task for him. He knew, however, that she was worth it.


	21. Chapter 21

For the next few days Catherine tried to avoid her husband. She did not even know what annoyed her most about her current situation. That he had humiliated her with his inappropriate sentimentality and reminded her once again that he was only interested in her body and the promises Charles undoubtedly had made in exchange for his willingness to marry her or about her own inability to resist his advances.  
She cursed herself and her treacherous body that was stupid enough to react to each of his touches with unwanted desire. Hadn't she learned from the mistakes of her past?

She had become accustomed to spending her evenings in the library and did not retire to their shared chambers before midnight. In most cases Stephane had already laid down by then and her cold and unforgiving attitude towards him killed off every possible attempt to approach her on a physical level. Each morning she slipped out of bed before dawn and caught up on the sleep she lacked in the afternoon when she lay down with little John for a short nap.  
Her days were filled with taking care of her grandson, going on long rides and planning the remodeling of the chateau and the gardens. She also resumed a lively correspondence with most of her children as well as with Mary and her remaining ladies at court.  
In addition she had become familiar with Stephane's daily routine and was meticulously anxious about planning her own day the best possible way to avoid any point of contact.

Their time together where they sat down in the dining room was kept succinct. She also made sure that John was always present, so she could focus fully on the child.  
Stephane, who had given up after a few fruitless attempts to have a normal conversation with her during dinner, just gave her intense glances every now and then. Glances she tried to ignore.  
When she finally got up, her husband started to speak to her once again. She only gave him a scowl whereupon he muttered something incomprehensible and let her go without another word.

Their exhausting marriage was already taking it's toll out of her. How much she missed Henry and his indifference that caused her so much heartache in the past, but now with some distance it felt liberating. They had lived together but at the same time admittedly lived complete separate lifes. Far away from each others orbits, as paradox as this may sound.  
Stephane's presence on the other hand was omnipresent. Not only because he forced her to share quarters with him. Unlike Henry, he did not ignore her presence. And although she could not rule out that he too sought his sexual fulfillment with other women, Narcisse did not rub it in her face directly.

In order to clear her mind she istructed the stable boy to saddle Liberté to go for a ride. Nothing distracted her more from her present problems than galloping across vast fields and meadows on her favorite mare, leaving her worries behind. Oh, how she wished turning off her unwelcome feelings was as easy as this.

Catherine returned three hours later that day. She detected two men in the distance who were standing in the courtyard in front of the stables, deeply engrossed in conversation. Catherine did not have to come closer to recognize one of the two as her husband. She would have been able to identify him among thousands of people. The second person, however, she did not recognize when approaching. She brought Liberté to a sudden stop just in front of them.  
"Ah, Catherine, I would like to introduce you to my younger brother Rafael. Rafael, this is my wife, Catherine de' Medici."

Before she had a chance to rise from the saddle to dismount, Stephane's strong hands wrapped themselves around her waist and with a definate expression on his face he gently lifted her from the mare. For the sake of decency Catherine swallowed down some rude words that were already on her tongue, but resolutely wriggled out of her husband's grasp. She straightened her skirts and offered her hand to welcome her brother-in-law, who greeted her with a perfect kiss on her hand.  
"I am pleased to meet you, Rafael."  
"The pleasure is all mine."

She threw an angry look over her shoulder towards her husband. How could he not have mentioned his brother's visit?  
As if Stephane had guessed her thoughts, he raised en eyebrow and said: "You disappeared so quickly after lunch that I had no chance to inform you about Rafael's visit."  
"I see. If the gentlemen would excuse me now, I would like to freshen up. Rafael, I suppose you will stay for dinner. I'm looking forward to it. Husband..." The smile she had forced upon her face for his brother faded as soon as her gaze wandered on to Narcisse.  
"I'm glad to get to know you better tonight, Catherine."  
She nodded silently and returned to the main building.

However halfway she realized that she had forgotten the letter she had received from Charles. She had placed it in the saddlebag and read his letter during a short break. So she turned on her heels and approached the stables once again. But this time she remained unnoticed by the two men.  
"So this was the legendary Medici-witch. I'd never thought..." Before Stephane's brother could talk himself into more trouble, Catherine made use of her own sharp tongue.  
"...that said witch rides a horse instead of a broom?" The lovely smile on her face was scary as hell.

Stephane, who spun around first, gave his brother an angry glare. Rafael on the other hand, quickly broke loose from his state of shock and made an apologetic bow at Catherine's direction.  
"... that she is so beautiful and does not look as scary as she is commonly described. Excuse my lowbrow words, Catherine. Your reputation precedes you and even though I should not have spoken as disrespectful as this, you can hopefully understand my surprise about the lack of..."  
"Please save your breath. Stephane, how come you've never mentioned your dear brother before?", she interrupted her brother-in-law. "Moreover you seem so terribly alike. Gentlemen, I'll leave you with your objective discussions once again."  
She did not give any of the men another chance to defend themselves and walked back to the chateau with her head held high.

Catherine had completely forgotten about her letter she originally planned to get. The painful words she overheard unintentionally burned way too deep. Words her husband didn't defend her against. She was accustomed to hostility and insults and Medici-witch was far from the worst insult that has ever been thrown her way.  
But the fact that Stephane had just tolerated his own brother offending his wife hurt more than an actual slap in her face. Probably both brothers were just having the thrill of their lifetimes at her expense. Didn't her husband have one spark of decency? No honor?

But why should she expect more of him? Even at the time when she had been suspected of commiting regicide, he didn't make any move to invalidate this suspicion in order to save her skin. Even though he knew better than anyone that she had not put a single finger on her beloved Francis. She doubted that he would have intervened in time in case she would have been unable to prove her innocence and they would have laid her head on the scaffold.


	22. Chapter 22

On that evening Catherine took special care with preparing herself. Her pompous red and golden gown, the elaborate hairstyle and carefully applied make-up were matched even to the smallest detail. And while she eyed the results of her efforts in the mirror, her reflection smiled back at her with grim determination. Gone was every trace of this newly recovered, much younger version of Catherine, whose hair was gently dancing in the wind when she were riding on Liberté's back. Likewise the countless freckles that adorned her sun-kissed skin and the loose-fitting informal dresses that made her look like a common woman.  
No, the woman staring back at her from the mirror looked once again like Catherine de' Medici. The Queen Mother of France.

She strode down the circular stairway the second the clock striked the hour, fully ignoring the two men who were staring at her with half-open mouths. Catherine gracefully seated herself at the bountiful table, not waiting for one of the men to adjust the chair for her.  
"Allow me to tell you how gorgeous you look tonight, my dear sister-in-law." She dismissed Rafael's compliment with an imperious gesture.  
"Do not trouble yourself further with idle platitudes for my sake, Rafael. Servants, our dinner!"  
Her words caused sedulous activities among the staff. A short while later their table bent under the delicious food the servants had dished up. But even the best food could not belie the icy atmosphere in the banquet hall.

"How come I've never heard of your brother's existence, Stephane?" She asked in a snappish tone after a few minutes, cutting right through the uncomfortable silence that had spread between them.  
"You never asked about my family. I actually have six siblings. Most of them, like Rafael, are only half-siblings because my father remarried after my mother's early death. Rafael has been traveling for the last few years and has just returned to France. He will be our guest for some time." Catherine snorted contemptuously.  
"Why am I not surprised about not being involved in decisions of these nature, husband?" Her icy words had the power to make one's blood run cold.  
"Since it's utterly impossible to have a simple conversation with you. You'll surely understand why I did not want to bother you in this matter, Catherine." Stephane's words were no less cold or dismissive.

"Please, far be it from me to cause problems between my brother and his wife about my presence and the inexcusable words that unforgivably came over my lips this afternoon."  
"Do not worry, Stephane has caused these problems all by himself without your intervention," she hissed and furiously pulled a large piece of meat from her chicken leg. She put it in her mouth with pointed fingers and looked at her husband deliberativly.

"I'm more than willing to discuss this and other issues with you tonight, Catherine, in private."  
With a shrug, she dismissed his comment and turned to Rafael instead to ask him in about his adventures and on what parts of earth his travels had already taken him.  
As soon as decency allowed it, Catherine rose to retire to their rooms. Rooms, she would thankfully have for herself as her husband would certainly not leave his guest to himself this early in the evening.

To her astonishment Rafael followed her outside and prevented her from going upstairs.  
"Catherine, I am so sorry. You have catched me on the wrong foot today. Let me assure you that it was never my intention to talk badly about my brother's wife."  
"Then you should try to follow your intentions up with deeds in the future." Rafael seemed genuinely contrite, but she did not want to be led astray by his charming puppy-look.

"Forgive a foolish globetrotter who has just parroted the stupid gossip other people spread without thinking. You are a woman whose reputation precedes her far beyond the borders of France. And I just wanted to twit my brother and not offend or even hurt you. I have not met all of his former wives but I know Stephane and his taste in women. Believe me, it makes me very happy that this arrogant bastard has finally choosen a formidable woman of high calibre. And I mean that in the best possible way, Catherine. Can you forgive me?" The ability to wrap people around their little finger was clearly something the Narcisse brothers had in common.

"I won't let you get off the hook that easily, Rafael. But I'll think about it," she told him, pulling up her skirts to vanish upstairs.  
"This is probably more than I deserve. Don't be too hard on my brother. He has already given me a piece of his mind and defended your honor and reputation quite impressively. Good night, Catherine."  
At this revelation she stopped dead in the middle of the stairs and turned around to look at her brother-in-law.  
"He did?", She mumbled thoughtfully, whereupon Rafael nodded affirmatively.  
"It would not have taken much for him to challenge me to a duel. I'm only allowed to stay because I had to promise to formally apologize to you and if my staying here is also okay for you." Now it was Catherine's turn to nod.  
"Family is always welcome. Even if said family displays bad manners. Good night, Rafael. "She did not wait for his reaction, but ran up the stairs.

That night she waited for her husband with mixed feelings. But when he was not upstairs after midnight she went to bed, hoping sleep would claim her quickly.  
Just when her interial mind was drifting back and forth between waking and sleeping, the door opened and Stephane blustered in. She did not need to be a seer to realize that her husband was under the influence of too much alcohol.  
"So, whatever it was, did you get it out of your system?", he asked right away in her direction and struggled with stripping off his jacket. Sighting, Catherine straightened up in bed and gestured for Stephane to come over to her.  
"I'm just going to ignore this insolent question because you're drunk," she muttered and started opening the buttons on his shirt.

"Catherine ...", he said, but then did not seem to know what it was he actually wanted to tell her. So she silently helped him undress.   
"Why only did I have to choose the most complicated woman of all to be my wife?" He mused as he unceremoniously dropped himself next to her and looked at her expectantly.  
"You had a choice, Stephane. I didn't." She did not want to engage herself in another fruitless discussion with him, much less when he was drunk. But she was unable to bring herself to silently accepting his previous comment.  
"But now you have it. A choice I mean. And you seem to choose to be particularly difficult." His fingers tugged at the band that was holding her hair together.  
"I just behave appropriately," she informed him, preventing him from tousling her hair.  
"You are as stubborn as you are beautiful, woman. Don't you know that you can have everything from me, Catherine? Everything your heart desires. Just tell me what makes you happy and it's yours, ma Belle."

Catherine closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When would men only realize that they could not buy women with empty words and cocky promises? Henry had been a master at calming his conscience with generous gifts for his wife and mistress and Stephane also seemed to assume that men could win women's cooperation this way.  
"Making me happy is not in your power, husband" she whispered, thinking of Mary, whom she had once told that queens could never be happy. Oh how she wished she would have been wrong. But her years as Henry's Queen had taught her a hard lesson. Years where she would have given everything - even commited murder - for a tiny sign of genuine affection or love. But unreturned, morbid love seemed to be her destiny.  
First Henry and then Stephane. Ironically these very different men shared a common fate. Both had tied the knot of marriage with her.

"And what is it, that would make you happy? Please don't say an annulment."  
"It's getting late, Stephane, let's go to sleep." She did not have the energy to continue this conversation or to worry about things that could not be changed.  
"Once again you avoid me. Come on, let me hold you. Just this one time." Narcisse held out his arms in invitation. His gaze was almost imploring. "Don't make me beg, ma Belle."

Catherine considered her husband's request deliberately. Stephane however took her lack of protest as approval, so he pulled her into his arms without further ado.  
"Stephane," Catherine wailed in a weak protest that was nipped in the bud when his lips neared her face and her husband breathed a tender kiss on her forehead.  
"I just want to hold you." Stephane repeated and spread the blanket over their bodies.

His masculine scent wafted into her nostrils, evoking bitter-sweet memories of a time full of hope and happiness. But these momories had turned out to be nothing more than a foolish illusion in form of a frail little bubble, bursting at the first gossamer touch of cold and harsh reality.

"That's nice," he muttered after a while and she felt his hot breath brush against her neck.  
"Don't get used to it," was her answer that lacked her otherwise so impressive determination.  
"Or maybe it's you who has to adjust." 

She would have liked to free herself from his grip, to shake off his all-consuming closeness, but his pull was too strong and the comfort his embrace gave her broke every resistance.  
"Do not worry, my darling. In the end everything will be good. And if it's not good, then it's certainly not the end." Stephane philosophized as his fingertips drew circles on her arms. Oh how she would have liked to trust her husband, but Catherine de' Medici believed just as little in fairy tales as she believed in miracles.

"You're sure you still don't want to...?", he whispered after a moment of silence against her neck and his fingers caressed her lower abdomen.  
"Yes, I'm pretty sure. I just want to sleep. You should do the same, husband," she replied, unable to suppress a timid smile that spread across her face despite the circumstances.  
"Just checking," Stephane grumbled. His hands were still on her body but he did not press her any further. Instead he buried his face in her hair.  
"Now you know the answer. Go to sleep."


	23. Chapter 23

Both Narcisse men spent the following morning making amends. They presented themselves in a charming and accommodating, almost obtrusive way, trying to please Catherine to no end. So she decided to go for a ride after lunch. By herself.  
She made a mental note not to give up this beloved leisure activity even after her return to court. She also planned on taking Liberté back with her as she had grown fond of the mare. Catherine loved burying her fingers in the horse's soft fur or the impatient snort the mare greeted her with. Also her cheeky way of searching Catherine's dress for treats that she usually brought for Liberté.

On that day she had decided to go for a ride along the cliffs, a precipitous path that demanded a lot from horse and rider but in the end rewarded her with a breathtakingly beautiful view at the sea and its rough cliffs underneath.  
Salty sea air blew up to her and ruffled Catherine's hair as she sat on one of the rocks, gazing down at the ocean and letting her mind wander. Her mare grazed peacefully a few yards away from her.  
If she could only freeze this carefree moment and preserve it forever.

Only when the sun became veiled by dark clouds and a deep rumble announded an approaching thunderstorm in the distance, Catherine mounted her horse to set out for her way back home.  
Her hope of reaching the chateau before the first rain sets in was dashed after the first few meters. Heavy rain completely soaked her thin riding dress within two minutes and made her return even more difficult as she now had to slow down Liberté's pace to avoid a serious slip on the muddy underground. Catherine was getting angry at herself. Why the hell did she had to lose track of time?

When a loud thunder rumbled in front of them, Liberté anxiously baulked and Catherine needed a few minutes to get a handle on her nervous horse. Meanwhile the rain was pouring down on her like a torrential flood and she could make out flashes of lightning on the horizon.  
As another thunder rumbled directly above them, Liberté reared up in panic. A thick branch with thorns smashed painfully against Catherine's back but she hung on for dear life. She immediately leaned forward and released some of the reins to avoid falling down and preventing the mare from flipping over with her on top.  
"Steady, my girl, keep calm," she tried to placate the animal that was now dominated by her increasing panic.

That's when the next peal of thunder prompted Liberté to uncontrollable leap forward and Catherine had no choice but to press herself close to the horse's neck as not to be snatched from the saddle by low-hanging branches. It took her some time before Liberté reacted to her counter-rein. When she finally came to an abrupt halt, the mare steamed and was trembling all over.  
"All right, you're okay," she tried to calm down the animal while hoping to be proven correctly. Before the panic overtook the horse yet again, Catherine slid off Liberté's back and reached for her reins. "Come on girl, I'll walk with you."

The animal unwillingly followed her down a steep slope. The rain had softened the grass under her feet so that the heels of her boots sank in deeply and made the descent even more difficult. Cursing she slithered along, pulling the unwilling mare right behind her.  
A root unhinged Catherine and she slipped down on unsteady legs. To keep her mare out of harm's way she released the reins from her grip. Fighting for her balance she stumbled towards a low bush, clinging desperately at the thin twigs to catch her fall. Her built up momentum however tore her from her legs and she landed ungently on her knees.  
When Catherine scrambled back to her feet, Liberté shot past her, chasing through the woods in full panic mode.  
"Damn it!" She scolded indignantly and tried to brush off her rain- and mud-soaked skirts. Now she would have to walk back by foot. And the prospect of such a forced march under these prevailing conditions elicted anything expect enthusiasm.

At their chateau, Stephane stood near the window and looked at the beclouded sky. It had already started to rain and he was sure that the approaching thunderstorm would break directly over them sooner or later. He liked the electrical tension that rose in the air on days like these and he could already make out a faint rumble in the distance.  
His brother however who sat at the desk of the secretary was working on the reports he wrote about his travels and paid no attention to the weather. Nor did John, who had curled up under the desk with one of the puppies and was fighting sleep. It was only Catherine he hadn't seen since lunch.

Just as he was about to instruct one of the servants to check on his wife, the stableboy came in without knocking, a panic stricken expression on his face and bursted out excitedly: "Mylord, your wife went on a ride hours ago and she has not yet returned."  
Stephane scrutinized the boy. Actually he should criticize the boy for his rude behavior, but he generously ignored these circumstances because of his discomposure.  
"Hold your horses. She's certainly on her way back."  
"She was heading for the coast, Mylord. And Liberté is an unruly horse. She's entirely unpredictable in a thunderstorm." Narcisse looked worried out to the window to the north where first flashes of lightning were splitting the horizon in the distance. Ominous storm clouds had darkened the sky and the thought that his wife was alone out there turns his stomach upside down.  
Rafael had dropped his quill and stepped to his brother with a sorrowful expression on his face.  
"We will search for her. Get the nanny so she can to take care of John," Stephane ordered without hesitation and yanked his jacket off the rack. Together they hurried down.

Within minutes they had built two search parties and galloped off into the storm under Stephane's and Fabrice's leadership to look for their mistress.  
Lord Narcisse forbade himself any thoughts of what might have happened to Catherine but concentrated on their surrounding and his stallion, who chased with lithe movements through the northern woods that led up to the bluff above razor-sharp cliffs.  
"Stephane! Over there, look," Rafael screamed all of a sudden and pointing to the left side, rain running down his face. The Lord Chancellor pulled hard on the reins of his stallion and headed in the direction his brother pointed to.

The moment he spotted Liberté without her rider his heart skipped a beat. He dismounted next to the quivering mare. The animal was blowing it's nostrils anxiously but the presence of the other horse appeached her.  
Liberty's fetlocks were littered with bloody scratches and a thin branch had gotten entangled at the edge of the saddle. The horse's poor condition did not augur well.

Terrible horror scenarios came to his mind and each of them ended with his wife being badly injured, helpless and out in the woods where he couldn't find her in time.  
"Catherine!" He yelled against the roaring rain and let his eyes wander in search for her. In vain. "Oh my god, please don't let anything happen to her," he pleaded, realizing that she was nowhere to be found. What if her fall of the horsre had seriously injured her? She may have broken bones, deep wounds or even worse.

The vision of her tumbling down the cliff captured his inner eye. He shook his head, this was a thought he could and would not allow.  
"Move on, we have to find her", he bellowed and passed Liberté's reins on to one of his men. He jumped back into the saddle and galloped off.  
His eyes searched for his wife beneath the trees while naked fear breathed down on his neck. He dashed away, riding deeper and deeper into the forest. He continously called her name and hated how anxious his voice sounded.

He had to find her. Living and god willing uninjured. There was no other option. He could not lose her. He just couldn't. Not his Catherine too. His soul mate, his stubborn beautiful wife with whom he wanted to grow old and live out his life. He wanted to see her sweet face first thing in the morning as well as at the end of each day before drifting off to sleep. He still wanted to count and catalog those freckles that adorned her face that she hid so carefully under her make-up.  
A life without Catherine at his side, without her willpower, her razor-sharp mind or her witty and unruly charm was simply unimaginable. Without her, he would never find happiness in his life again, of that he was sure. Catherine de' Medici was his fate, his destiny. They were far from perfect, but they matched perfectly. And no matter how many times she had already clashed with him, Catherine was and remained his perfect, imperfect match.


	24. Chapter 24

"Catherine!", he shouted again and bitted Demon to search the area more closely. On his left side he noticed stirred soil that had already turned into a small mud hole. Stephane jumped off his horse to inspect the tracks more closely. A few meters away he saw hoofprints leading down a steep bank. He got on his stallion once again and goated him down the slope as well. The moment he spotted a jadegreen piece of fabric that dangled from one of the thorn hedges at the foot of the bank, his heart contracted painfully at first and then sank into his boots.  
"Catherine," he shouted again at the top of his lungs but he didn't received an answer. So he continued to hurry along the narrow abundandly path covered with vegetation that hopefully led him to his wife. He did not notice the sodden rain, nor the unpleasant coldness that slowly crept up his spine.  
Again and again he called out her name and sent a silent prayer to heaven each time she didn't answer.

"I'm here!" Stephane yanked on Demons reins the moment he heard her soft, almost unnoticeable voice. He stopped to pinpoint her position, then he put his spurrs to Demon and galloped off towards her voice at breakneck speed and despite the slippery ground.  
"Catherine!" He yelled breathlessly as he finally spotted the rainsoaked but intact looking figure that came running at his direction. Even before his horse came to a halt, Narcisse already jumped off and ran towards his wife. He locked her into a bear hug and pressed her small form tightly against his chest.   
"Oh my god, you're okay. Tell me you're alright, ma Belle!?", he pressed out emotionally charged and put her at arm's length a few seconds later to take in her appearance. "Are you hurt?" Because even though she seemed unharmed, he still had to hear her say it.

"Only my pride is hurt," Catherine said, her lips quivering from the cold while her whole body shivered slightly.  
"I was so worried about you. Oh my god, don't you ever scare me like that again."  
He pulled his wife into his arms once again. The unbearable tension that suddenly dropped off, shook his entire body. On the spur of the moment Stephane kissed Catherine with an intensity that gave her a stagger. "Never again, do you hear me?!", he whispered against her lips.  
He noticed how surprised she was by his desperate reaction. To his amazement she did not elude herself but rather returned his kisses - no less passionate. Stephane only released her lips when he realized that she was trembling due to the cold and not with desire. He stripped off his wet coat and put it over Catherine's shoulders. Although the garment was already a bit clammy from the inside it would still protect her from the icy wind. At least better than her own dress that was not only thin but dripping wet.

"The thunderstorm surprised me and Liberté escaped my grasp. How very foolish. We have to find her, Stephane," Catherine explained after he had lifted her on Demon and climbed up right behind her.  
"We already found her. That's why I was so terribly worried about you. I don't want to think about what could have happend!" Stephane reached around his wife. He took the reins and urged his stallion on. Without hesitation Catherine slumped back against his chest and closed her eyes. She obviously entrusted him to bring her home - safe and unharmed. An idea that pleased Stephane Narcisse to no end.

When they reached the main path, Stephane called off the search. With his wife in his arms he galloped off to their home on the fastest route. He let Demon come to a halt in front of the stairs that led to the main house. Then he swung himself off the animal's back and helped her down as well. He handed the reins to one of the lads and led Catherine up the steps. She was shivering from cold and exhaustion.  
As soon as they entered the chateau, he summoned their servants.  
"Light a fire in our chambers. Prepare a light meal as well as a cup of tea with rum."  
Stephane stepped around his wife and freed her from his heavy coat, wherein she look small and lost.  
"And prepare a hot bath," he added after a brief pause while giving Catherine a look of scrutiny. "Any objections?"  
His question took her by surprise and she needed a moment before she realized the reach of his behavior. Quite obviously Stephane was respecting her wishes and sensitivities. Even at a moment when he seemed to be dominated by his concern for her well-being.   
"No objections. Thank you, "she whispered, gratefully taking the hand he held out for her to escort her upstairs.

The experiences of the last few hours had demanded more from her than she wanted to admit. Every fiber of her body ached and burned with cold and overstraining. As they entered their chambers, a young lad was already kneeling by the fireplace and tending to the fire. When he was satisfied with his efforts the boy arose, bowed slightly and scurried out.   
Not much later, crackling flames shot up and spread a pleasant warmth. Catherine still shivered with cold and her wet dress clung to her body in an uncomfortable way. She did not even want to think about the desolate state of her hairdo.

A clutch of servants ran past them to the adjoining room where they prepared a steaming bath for them. Stephane closed the door to protect her from prying eyes and began to untie the wet lacing of her dress that her shaky and cold fingers had previously struggled with in vain.  
"Let me help you," he murmured against her ear and the warmth of his words flushed her body with heat to the core of her heart. Catherine nodded and her husband made short work of her dress as well of her soaked underdress. Then he wrapped her in her robe and ran his strong hands over her upper arms for a few seconds.  
Stephane pulled Catherine over to the fireplace and placed her in one of the comfortable armchairs to wait there until their servants finished with their preparations. With an affectionate look he spread a warm blanket over her.


	25. Chapter 25

After a knock at the door Narcisse briefly disappeared from her field of view. He came back with a steaming mug of tea with a generous lacing of rum in it. Gently he handed his wife the cup.  
It was only when he was convinced that she was well taken care of for the moment when he slipped out of his own soaked clothes. Catherine watched her husband in silence while the deliciously warm burning of the alcohol ran down her throat.

She had never before seen Stephane Narcisse behave like the way he did in the woods today. So worried. Worried about her and her well-being. Maybe even worried about her life. She did not know what to think of this new development.  
And she simply lacked the energy of seriously thinking about the meaning of it after her more than exhausting day. Groggily Catherine closed her eyes and listened to the soothing noise of the cracking fire.

"Catherine, ma Belle? Your bath has been prepared. Come on, that'll do you some good," he whispered softly into her ear and she realized that she must have dozed off. It took her a moment to regain her senses. Then she accepted the hand Stephane patiently held out for her.  
A pleasant warmth awaited her in the adjoining room, accompanied by the soothing scent of her favorite bath essence they have already poured into the water.  
She stilled without resistance when her husband stepped behind her to remove her bathrobe.

"Oh dear, what happened to your back?" She sensed Stephane's light touch more than she felt it. Actually she should feel uncomfortable under his intense inspection. She knew that she no longer had the slim and willowy body of a young woman, rather that of a mother of several children already effected by force of gravity. Yet she felt no shame.  
"A branch got in our way," she explained succinctly, realizing at the same moment that his lips were gently kissing the affected area.  
"I'm afraid you've lost out this encounter. We'll take care of it after your bath."

She nodded affirmatively, searching for the step stool to get into the tub. Catherine cried out in surprise when Stephane pulled her off her legs and lifted her over the edge of the tub.  
"Stephane!" She chided him but couldn't bring herself to be angry at him because of the loving look he gave her.  
"Trust me, I'll hold you," he assured her with faithful eyes. He let her slide into the water very carefully. The soothing warmth that enveloped her body made her sigh languorously.  
"Good?", teased her husband but he kept her from leaning back.  
"Stephane, I'd really like to...", she started to protest when he unexpectedly stripped off his own robe and swung his long legs over the edge to sit in the tub behind her.  
"Don't you worry, now you can," he said, his masculine warm body completely surrounding her. When he realized that she still hesitated, he simply pulled her against his chest with gentle force. "Relax," he whispered adjuratory and she wondered how in the name of god she should be able to do so when nearly every fiber of her body was touched by his.

Tentatively she leaned her head against his neck.  
"Perfect," he whispered behind her. "You fit into my arms perfectly."  
"It seems to me that you've poured too much rum into your own tea."  
"Not one drop, ma Belle. But I've had a very dramatic experience today. You could even call it an enlightenment. Please just listen to me, will you?" He demanded quietly and drew circles on her stomach with his fingers what caused an intimate tingling in her nether regions. "This time where I did not know where you were, whether you're alive or badly injured, was the most terrible time of my life. And when I've lost my head for a minute or two and allowed myself to imagine how my life might be without you, the idea of losing you was hard to bear.  
Catherine, my relationship with you is the most beautiful, horrible, agitating and frustrating one I've ever had. You anger me as fast as you excite me. Sometimes I do not even know if I should put you over my knee for a good spanking or if I should just kiss you.  
Ma Belle, I can not tell you what the future holds for us but as of today I know for sure how our future should never look like under any circumstances. I need you, Catherine."

All these words he had spoken against her neck and the sheer power of this statement caused goose bumps to rise on her arms which lay motionless on Stephane's knees. She did not know if she should feel glad or frustrated about the fact that she could not see his eyes in the moment of his revelation.  
"What does that mean, Stephane?" She whispered arduously, feeling overwhelmed by this confession, his closeness and almost unbearable care.  
"It means that I love you, Catherine. I chose the most difficult woman on god's earth and fell head over heels in love with this beautiful creature."  
His words caused Catherine to turn around. He willingly released her only to grab her by the hips to pull her closer once she had turned so that she was now sitting on his lap.

"I don't know what to say?!" she replied in confusion, desperately searching his eyes for any indication that her husband was telling the truth.  
"You do not have to say anything, ma Belle. Just promise me to think about it."  
"You love me?" She still asked, unable to process this information. "I would like to believe you, but ..." Catherine stopped but she didn't need to say anything more as Stephane already nodded knowingly.  
"I do not want to put any pressure on you. And if you need time, then you should get all the time in the world. I'm not running away."

His hands went around her face and he pulled her slowly towards him. However to her surprise, his lips did not find hers but her forehead, where he placed a loving kiss.  
But could she trust his words? Trust the words of a man who was anything but selfless and who had already betrayed her so many times? Oh, but the look in his eye - eyes that pleadingly stared at her - softened her pain-stricken heart.  
"Prove it to me. You have to prove it," she whispered and Narcisse nodded.  
"I will, Catherine. And I would like to start by making love to you. Now. Here. May I love you, ma Belle?"

The intimacy of these words and the deep timbre of his voice brought strings in her to their voices that had been silent for too long and that only Stephane could play.  
Her body was already quivering at the thought of making love in the bathtub so she nodded. A split second later his lips covered hers. It was a kiss of lovers, knowing, stormy and yet full of expectations and affection.

Narcisse did need no further invitation but rather let his hands roam her naked body. Surprisingly he lifted his legs so that Catherine tipped forward until she felt his erection press between her thighs.  
"Someone seems to be in a hurry," she whispered against his lips.  
"Now you see what you're doing to me." Stephane's hands made their way to what she believed was his favorite part of her body, her bottom. With gentle pressure his fingers massaged her flesh, finding the perfect mixure of strength and finesse.

At some point she could no longer suppress a groan whereupon his penis pressed urgently against her entrance.  
"I promise to love and take care of your needs the whole night, Chérie. I'll cover every inch of your body with kisses but if I can not have you now - this very moment - I'll die of ardent longing. Ready, ma Belle?"  
She was ready, she was more than ready and afraid of shattering with desire. Only he could end this sweet torment. So instead of answering, she placed herself above him and with closed eyes sank down on his member in one swift motion. He gasped and gripped her hips, guiding her. They both groaned in unison.  
"I'm glad you agree."  
"Kiss me," she demanded determinedly and her husband oboyed without hesitation. With a vehemence that send her into rapture.

Stephane rose under her so that their bathwater sloshed over the edge of the tub. With one hand he slid between them and teased her sensitive clit. The other was now caressing her ass and directed her up and down motions. In order not to lose her balance and for better leverage she braced her hands against the edge of the wooden tub. This way she could better control her movements.  
"Oh my God!" She exclaimed when Stephane put pressure on her clitoris and her whole body began to twitch with pleasure. After several more violent jolts her arms could no longer hold her weight so she collapsed on her husband who was still stimulationg her clit.  
"Come for me, Catherine," Stephane whispered and searched again for her lips. As if on command she flinched violently and pressed her crotch firmly against his hand, which still exerted pressure on her center, causing a surge of pleasure that swept over her and pulled Catherine away. "Look at me. Look at me, ma Belle! You are so beautiful when you come."

Befogged by her lust she needed a moment before she realized that Narcisse was raising and turning her mindless body that still trembled with ecstasy, so that her torso now leaned slightly over the edge of the tub. Before she could ask him what the hell he was doing, he had already penerated her from behind and pressed her body against the edge of the tub with the force of his thrust. The water spilled wildly and washed around her body as her fingers clawed tightly around the edge to better hold off the violence of his thrusts. She felt his pulsing manhood deep inside her with each thrust. His labored breathing and the increasing speed of his movements told her that he was about to reach his climax.  
So she contracted her vaginal muscles as waves of pleasure washed over him.

After a few last convulsions his heavy upper body sagged against her. Stephane needed a moment before he bonelessly dropped back into the tub and swept his wife along. Catherine found herself puzzled and still panting on his lap.  
Neither of them was able to speak at that moment so he gently turned her head in his direction and kissed her in such a loving way that she could barely control her exuberant emotions. How was it possible that at one second he was able to wrap her around his little finger with his love affirmations and in the next he mad wild and passionate love with her, only to tenderly kiss her afterwards? Did he ever look at her with such an intensity, that unleashed thousands of butterflies in her stomach?

"The water is getting cold. Plus, our bed is much better suited for what I plan to do next with you," Narcisse broke the silence, but Catherine's willingness to leave the bath and his arms was limited. When he realized she was not responding, he regretfully loosened his grip and rose to a standing position. He acknowledged her quiet protest with a kiss. "Do not worry, you'll get your money's worth," he assured her, but Catherine pouted.  
"I was pretty pleased right now, Stephane." Her husband got out of the tub and she leaned back groaning. Then she plunged herself into the lukewarm water.

After a few seconds his hands wrapped around her neck and Stephane gently pulled her back to the surface of the water.  
"Pleased you'll be, I assure you. You'll actually be screaming with pleasure, ma Belle."

He pledged his promise with a kiss before he helped Catherine getting out of the tub. Wrapped into a fluffy towel, he carried his wife to their bed, where he turned rhetorics into action.


	26. Chapter 26

It was already past noon when Stephane awoke the next day and to his surprise his wife was still sleeping peacefully in his arms. Apparently their nightly activities had completely exhausted her. This realization brought a smug grin to his face. He carefully removed his arm from her still form and sat up in their bed to look at her more closely.  
Catherines red-blonde hair laid spread out on her pillow like a golden halo and framed her beautiful face with wild and unruly curls. Countless freckles graced her skin and her features were soft and relaxed. The comforter had slipped down a bit and offered an incredible view of the gentle curves of her breasts.  
He hoped to wake up to a sight like this much more often in the near future.

Narcisse ran his fingertips gently over Catherine's cheek. Fascinated he watched her wrinkle her cute little nose as if to chase away a pesky fly which mad him chuckle. He repeated this action and his wife reacted the same way as before but she still didn't seem to wake up.  
"Ma Belle," he said more instistingly, still trying to wake her. But instead of opening her eyes she just groaned and buried her face in the pillow. Stephane gently removed the blanket and placed a kiss on the back of her neck. Then he let his lips wander down her back until they reached the very inviting arch of her buttocks.  
"It's already noon, Catherine. Time to rise and shine. I'll have them bring our breakfast. Or maybe... we could... ", he did not get any further because his wife wriggled out from under him and sat up abruptly.

"Breakfast?! I am dying of hunger!" Her reaction didn't really surprise him so the Lord Chancellor pulled his wife closer, kissed her good morning and rose in search for his dressing gown he had carelessly stripped off the previous night.  
Catherine on the other hand had discovered the tray with their forgotten dinner. She rushed towards it in all her naked glory.  
"Order me an omelette with cheese and bacon - not too much salt on it - plus some fruits and a piece of cake," she demanded while sticking a piece of cold pheasant into her mouth to overcome her initial hunger.

"Yes, my Darling," Narcisse confirmed dutifully, struggling to tear himself away from the spectacular sight his naked wife presented him with. Her ecstatic expression while eating was pure aphrodisiac. He decided to include strawberries, champagne and cream to their lovemaking in the future.

Stephane left their chambers and mobilized the servants. Back in the room he contented himself with the role of a silent observer. He only came back to action when a soft knock at the door announced the arrival of their food. Then he rose again and affectionately covered Catherine with her dressing gown before calling the servants in to serve their food. Silently but in complete harmony they shared a late breakfast.  
Only when her maids appeared to ready their mistress for the day, Stephane reluctantly left his wife to fulfill his neglected duties as Lord Chancellor.

All day long he wore a satisfied smile on his face. A smile his brother couldn't miss.  
"So I take it - your wife has obviously forgiven you, Stephane", he teased, but the older one assumed indifference by his banter.  
"Considering the fact that Catherine can be quite resentful, you'd better keep watching out, dear brother."  
"I will keep that in mind."  
Just then Stephane's wife appeared on the tread of the stairs and slowly walked down to the two men. Rafael looked first at his radiant sister-in-law then turned his gaze towards his brother who smiled from ear to ear at the sight of his wife.

"Oh my, I think I'm losing my faith! Are you seriously in love? With your own wife?!" Rafael whispered in disbelief and punched Stephane ruggedly into his side.  
"What do you care," his brother murmured instead of denial.  
"Basically I would not care very much about it, but we're talking about a self-determined, mature woman. One of your own age, with a will of her own and both feet on the ground. And as far as I can tell she does not listen to reason nor to her husband."  
These thoughts weren't foreign to Stephane, they had already crossed his own mind but he tried to ignore his brother and rushed towards the stairs to greet his wife instead.  
"You look beautiful, ma Belle. May I take you for a short walk before dinner, my dear?"  
"You may," she graciously permitted while blushing slightly at his flattering words.

The couple peacefully strolled from the gardens to the stables as Catherine insisted on checking her mare's condition by herself. Liberté's fetlocks had been cleaned and treated with a wound healing tincture, yet her rider felt a sense of guilt at the sight of her.  
"Do not worry, these are just superficial scratches. In a few days she will be her old self again", Narcisse assured his wife as if reading her thoughts.

Catherine sighed and offered the animal the carrot she had brought from the pantry as some kind of reparation.   
"Ain't you hungry? How about dinner now?" Her husband suggested unexpectedly, trying to distract her. When his wife nodded in agreement, he stole a sweet kiss and led Catherine back to the chateau.


	27. Chapter 27

The next few days could only be described as harmonious. Catherine, who was getting more and more outgoing and docile towards him, was dominating Stephane's way of thinking. Whether he was awake or asleep.

Meanwhile she accepted his efforts to court her and each night he made sweet love to her with a devotion that surprised even himself.

He was not foolish enough to try to buy her love with expensive gifts although he was quite willing to indulge her every whim. But he knew that the way back in Catherine de' Medici's heart was not through his money bag, but over a tiny little plant called trust that was beginning to flourish once again and would hopefully grow into a magnificent and indestructible tree of love.

He had to learn to contain his impatience. Learn how to be close without restricting her and always finding ways to surprise this incredibly detached woman.

Stephane brought her flowers and made sure that there was always a nice selection of finest chocolate waiting for her in their chambers. He also sent for her favorite tailor after she complained about her lack of comfortable riding habits.

Stephane especially enjoyed the time they spent with John that showed him another, much gentler Catherine and her loving interaction with the little boy opened his heart even further for his wife.

One evening, Catherine was peacefully sitting in the wing chair in the salon with the child on her lap while she was reading to him, Narcisse suddenly realized that from now on the little one would see her as a mother figure which brought him the title of a father. An idea he actually liked. Because this child, even if it was physically not theirs, connected them in a new and very intimate way.

He had always been a possessive man, but with Catherine these sentiments reached unimaginable dimensions. The thought allone of being able to call her his wife in public made him feel elated.  
What he did not like was when one of the stable boys tried to help her get on Liberté for example. And his brother's efforts to correct his first, rather bad impression, were a thorn in his side.

But he did not make the mistake of making his discomfort visible to Catherine or even voice his claim of possession loudly. He knew her well enough to realize that his Medici wife only tolerated one claim alone - and that was her very own.

So he tried to prevent other men's support by beeing present most of the times, especially since Catherine simply accepted his help with a radiant smile most of the times. A rather nice improvement for a chance.

Stephane's thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of the nanny to get John ready for bed. Silently he watched Catherine placing a motherly kiss on the boy's forehead before handing the sleepy child over to his nanny. John's arms reached for Catherine who hugged him once more and whispered something in his ear whereupon John nodded his little head and beamed at her.

"But first you have to sleep, okay Darling?! And tomorrow we go see the pony. I promise. Good night, my little prince."  
The Lord Chancellor rose and placed a kiss on the boy's crown before the nanny took him upstairs.

As he was standing anyway, Stephane walked over to his wife and stroked her neck tenderly. Then he squeezed himself next to her on the chair and pulled her towards him.

"There are half a dozen seats, Stephane. Why do you have to choose mine?", she chided him mildly.  
"Quite simply because you're sitting here," Narcisse explained and stole a loving kiss from her. That's how he liked to spend his evenings. Just the two of them, relaxed, joking and at least one of them was head over heels in love. "I should have married you sooner," he mused, taking one of her small hands.

"Yeah right, why bother with Lola's or Henry's very existence? What were the names of wife one, two and three again?" She replied ironically, but obviously she decided to let him continue playing with her fingers.

"Only hypothetical, Catherine. I would have wished you being the mother of my children. Maybe some things would have turned out diffrently."  
While hearing this announcement she turned her head and stared at him perplexed.  
"That would have been a direful choice. Unless of course you are looking for a mother your sons could hate with utmost fervor. Then you're asking the right woman," she mocked, but Stephane did not allow this kind of self-mortification.

"Nonsense. You are a devoted mother who loves her children with all her heart. No one can and will ever doubt that."  
"Of course. How about Claude, Leeza, Charles, Francis ... just to make a start. Henry, Margot and Hercule are too young to hold such deep grudges against me. Yet. I'll give them a few more years." She could not hide the bitterness of her words.

"They don't hate you. Maybe they do not always agree with the way you show them your love, but they certainly don't hate you. And don't forget about John. He adores you," Stephane reminded her and pulled Catherine in a loving embrace whereupon she rested her head against his shoulder.

"John does not count. Little children always love their grandparents. Oh God, Stephane, I'm a grandmother!"  
He couldn't help but laugh at her statement and the shocked expression on her face.  
"I can assure you, he sees you more like a mother, not a grandmother. Just look at the positive side of it, ma Belle. A little boy to whom you mean the world, that you can love and raise without having to endure the pain of giving birth."

"I've done so much damage while raising my children," the Queen Mother went on, ignoring his placating words. "I've only ever wanted their best, that might be true, but that's also what keeps me from growing away from them. They do not understand what it takes to raise a King's child safely, keeping them out of harms way. They have no idea what it's like to live in constant fear. Not fear for my own pathetic life, I wouldn't even hesitate for a second to give it for any of my children. But the fear of losing my own flesh and blood, Stephane! When parents die, it's the past that dies, but when children die, the future dies with them."

The heaviness of her words hung in the air and the moment Stephane turned his head, he felt moisture on his neck. Was Catherine crying?  
With a gentle movement he ran his hand over her back.

"You have always done everything in your power to protect your family and it's never too late to right what's done wrong in one case or another. Look at Charles. He send you a letter, telling you how much he enjoys his time in the monastery and didn't he thank you for taking him there? Besides I'm pretty sure he'll want his mother back at his side once he returns to court," the Lord Chancellor said, trying to lift her spirits.

"And on the other hand there is Claude, Stephane. Not only did I break the promise I made when you married her off without her consent. Instead of preventing it, I am responsible for the beating she had to endure! That's the kind of mother I am. One that allows her child to be harmed, no matter how well my plan to free her may have been. And in addition I betrayed her brother, our King."

"Me as well, ma Belle. But I understand what you're trying to say," Stephane answered.  
"If you really understand me, then make sure that I do not have to break my promise to Claude," Catherine demanded, looking up at her husband under long eyelashes.

"She is a princess. And you must not forget that our treasury is frighteningly empty. We simply can not afford to turn down important alliances with powerful allies for Claude's and Margot's hand," he answered, causing her to rise and drawing herself up in front of him.

"With wealthy allies, you mean," she corrected him angrily.  
"Please, Catherine. I do not want to argue with you."  
"Then please don't consider my daughters as a kind of royal breeding cattle." Her words were harsh and bitter.

"Don't be silly. That's not how I see them and neither you if that's the direction you want to take next. I just do not want to subject such an important and perhaps strategic decision to the whims of a fickle young woman known for..."  
"Careful what you say!", Catherine interrupted him harshly but Narcisse ignored her protest and continued unimpressed.

"...having an equally fickle heart. Listen to me, my dear, I promise you that I will not do anything about this matter without consulting you first. Let's see if this love between Claude and her young fellow is even lasting. In case the two separate, she may even be happy for a union far away from court. Maybe she comes to her senses and you will be released from your unfortunate pledge."

"The very idea that they could actually be in love with each other did not even cross your mind, did it?" She asked angrily.  
"Catherine, I do not know what's going on between the two, but you're right. In fact I do not expect it to last longer than a year. Let's stop this conversation right there, can we?"

The look Catherine gave him revealed that this conversation wasn't finished for her. But when she didn't grace him with a sassy answer he knew that he would get his peace right now but definitely no sex.

Stephane knew that any attempt at calming the waves that evening would be in vain. So he made no effort in this regard and gave Catherine some space.

However watching her getting ready for the night was something he still enjoyed even thought she was sending angry glares his way. He would never fathom the secrets of female cosmetic rituals but he did enjoy watching his wife remove her make-up and apply various creams and tinctures.

He didn't make love her that night but embraced her body as soon as she drifted of to sleep. Falling asleep with his wife in his arms was something he has gotten used to, as well to her closeness and her unique and beguiling fragrance. Stephane deliberately ignored his arising manhood that responded immediately to her soft form pressed against his own body.


	28. Chapter 28

Over the next few days they slowly returned to their newfound intimacy and both of them were careful not to bring up the subject of Claude's marriage as not to jeopardize the fragile peace between them.

Aside from that, also Stephane's relationship with Rafael improved day by day. The years that separated the brothers and Rafael's travels abroad had made them drift apart. But now Stephane realized that they had more than just the same genetic makeup in common.

What set him into a state of both amusement and alarm was the growing reverence the younger man seemed to have developed for Catherine.  
Nowadays his brother's gaze always clung to his wife as soon as she entered a room and it only became unfastened when she left.  
He decided to keep an eye on Rafael when dealing with Catherine. Other, much bigger men had already fallen for the charm of the Queen Mother. But she was now a married woman and he was not willing to share what was his alone.

To his delight she reacted receptive to his skills as a lover and she was equally adventurous. Stephane loved every single second he could spend with his glorious Catherine in a horizontal limbo.  
He also enjoyed the times afterwards, when she lay next to him, above him or below him - totally satisfied and still captured in the afterglow of their lovemaking. When he listened to the rapid beating of her heart he felt wholeheartedly happy.

This evening Catherine lay naked and exhausted on her stomach in the center of their bed, her head was resting on her arms she had folded in front of her. She could still feel his phantom touch that had given her the greatest pleasure only a few minutes ago.  
Stephane had risen and she heard him behind her, but she was way too lazy to turn around to see what he was doing.  
"If only I could keep my hands off of you long enough, I would paint you. In your birthday suit, only wearing that satisfied, sexy little smile so that anyone who looks at the painting would know that its painter loved this heavenly creature mere minutes before."  
The mattress gave way when her husband settled next to her and handed her a goblet of wine. Catherine straightened up a bit and took a sip before she looked over her shoulder at her husband in amusement.  
"Will you never get tired of flattering me? Even though you already got what you wanted? Twice, if I remember correctly."  
"So flattery will get me everywhere nowadays?"

Still laughing, Stephane lay himself down so that his head came to rest on her lower back. He just had to turn it to put a kiss on the gentle swell of her buttcheeks.  
"I never get tired of loving you, paying you compliments or just admiring your splendiferous ass," he announced and tenderly slapped her bottom with his flat hand only to kiss it better the fraction of a second later.  
"You're crazy," she laughed.  
"Yeah, crazy about you and that ass!" His answer didn't come as a surprise, but his fingers that slide between her buttocks started to gently stroke the intimate area between her legs.  
"Again?" Catherine asked and moaned. When she tried to turn around, Stephane held her down and knelt over her instead.  
"Stay that way, ma Belle."

His fingers stroked her teasingly, sliding back and forth between her slightly spread thighs and butt cheeks until she nearly came undone with desire once again.  
No man had ever displayed such finesse as Stephane Narcisse did when it came to amorous play. She didn't want to know exactly where he had learned or rather who had taught him all these things.  
Catherine groaned with pleasure when he slid first one, then two fingers inside her heated body. Then all of a sudden she felt a third finger gently probing the entrance of her ass and a startled sound escaped her throat whereupon the pressure disappeared immediately. Stephane breathed a feathery kiss on the base of her neck.  
"Trust me," he murmured, circling her sphincter again without penetrating her. "We're not doing anything you're not comfortable with," he assured her, accelerating the effort of his other fingers that were still sliding in and out of her body, stimulating her inner walls at the same time.  
Her body that had involuntarily tensed up at the forbidden practice Stephane had initiated relaxed again and soon a new groan escaped her lips.

She felt her husband change his position above her and a second later his fingers were replaced by his talented tongue. He nibbled and licked at her most intimate parts until a well-known tingling sensation started to spread through her lower body – starting at her hyper sensitive clitoris and slowly spreading through her whole body.  
When she began to twitch with ecstasy, Catherine once again felt one of his fingers at her butt hole, lazily circling the tight muscle. And then he penetrated her. This strange yet intense feeling of immense fullness - forbidden and sinful at the same time - drove her over the edge until her body was twitching and buckling up under his expert hands and sinful tongue.

Stephane was still sucking on her madly throbbing clit what made her flinch again and again. Only when her trembling body came down to earth after what felt like an eternity did he pull his finger out of her rear entrance and embraced her quivering body with a gentle hug.

Catherine needed a moment to collect her senses.  
"Did you like that, ma Belle?", he asked her. She took a scrutinizing look at his crotch and his impressive erection that jerked at her attention.  
"Well husband, you quite obviously liked it at any rate," she said, still unsure about how to respond to what she had just experienced. Stephane had crossed a boundary that offended common decency.  
"I like everything about you," he shoot back, clearly unperturbed by the fact that he had practiced a morally reprehensible act with her. "Don't beat yourself up, Catherine. There's nothing objectionable about anything two consensual lovers may enjoy doing. Everything is allowed that gives both of us pleasure, ma Belle. We do not have to be led astray by wrong morality."  
His hands wandered back to her buttocks and he lovingly stroked her warm flesh.

"Well, clearly you are no stranger to this... practice." she said, trying to get to the bottom of this strange situation.  
"No I am not, ma Belle. And I've been told that with the right preparation and great care it can be a mindblowing experience for both."  
Catherine freed herself from his embrace and stood up. She urgently needed to get some distance between them and this very idea. She discovered her dressing gown on one of the armchairs and tied it protectively around her naked body. Stephane who seemed unaware of her discomfort, straightened up on the bed and studied her attentively.  
"You might want to give this some serious thought? Or you can tell me right away that this is totally out of the question, that's also fine for me. I do not want to persuade or force you to do anything you're not willing to do."

Catherine took everything that recently happend between them into consideration. Her husband was a passionate, very giving lover. He liked to experiment and she was sure that this abnormal practice would give him some kind of special pleasure, otherwise he would not have initiated it. Maybe this also explained his obsession for her derriere he favored to caress and pat.

The thought of actually practicing such an act made her shudder. Which woman who was not a prostitute would voluntarily allow herself to be sodomized? The finger that he had put in there, though it had caused no pain, had felt foreign and uncomfortable at the beginning. And it had only been one single finger. The prospect of how his erect penis would feel down there made Catherine swallow hard.  
She closed her eyes for a moment to collect herself and to work up the courage for her next words. When she looked up again, Catherine turned to her husband and spoke in an emotionless voice: "Okay, I'll let you do it, Stephane."

At her words, Stephane rose and approached her with an unreadable expression. But she stopped his approach with a single gesture of her hand.  
"Under one condition. Claude marries Leith."  
His anger, now written all over his face, strained her already tense nerves and she deliberately took a deep breath.  
"What the hell does that mean, Catherine?!", her husband snapped, prompting her to get up as well.

"I'm offering you anal sex. That you of all people have to ask." She decided to feign ignorance.  
"Please do not insult my intelligence. I do recognize when a woman offers me sexual favors like a common whore, Catherine!" He shouted at her with rage, whereupon Catherine slapped him without further ado.  
"How dare you compare me to a whore?" Her voice was cracking with anger.  
"Maybe because you're willing to prostitute yourself?" Narcisse tore his shirt off the floor and slipped it over his head and put his leather pants on.

"I simply ask you a favor and in return I am prepared to fulfill one of your sexual fantasies. That's what they call a compromise! That's what men agree upon at their negotiating table - day-to-day. Quid pro quo."  
"Come on, this is ridiculous! Since when is a marital bed a negotiating table? God, the very thought that you offer me to accede to something you find disgusting in exchange for my approval for this marriage makes me sick!"  
"That's not true, I...", Stephane didn't let her finish but grabbed her arms and pressed her ungently against the wall.  
"Don't you dare lying to me. I was watching you, Catherine. Your facial expression spoke volumes. Do you have so little self-respect that you have to determine your own body as means of payment?"

Just as suddenly as he had grabbed her, he released her once again and turned his back to his wife, not only frustrated but mostly disappointed. "It's just like with this Christophe guy, isn't it? Do I even want to know what gross things you did allow him to do to you?"  
"Stephane, you are overreacting."  
"Save your breath. I can not stand this anymore. Don't wait for me tonight."

Before she could even react, Stephane was already out of the door. Completly perplexed by this evening's occurrence Catherine stared at the closed door. She just couldn't understand why he caused such a stir because of a suggestion she'd made.  
In the long run she trusted him. Would she make such an outrageous offer to him otherwise? And didn't life in general and their difficult relationship in particular consist of supply and demand? Give and take and an ongoing battle for dominance and power?

Stephane mastered this game just as good as she did. He did not shy away from blackmail, intrigue or corruption. Not even murder. And now he had the nerve to reproach her because she offered the only remedy most women solely had for pledge - her body?  
"You and your damn double standards!" She yelled after him and reached for the first object she could grasp. With pent-up rage she flung the wine carafe against the wall.


	29. Chapter 29

Stephane Narcisse didn't know what hurt him more. His own stupidity for confusing Catherine's all-too-quick relenting and the elusive harmony they've experienced the last few days with love or the realization that having sex with him seemed like nothing more than a means to an end for her.  
Yes, in a legal sense he had all rights to her body, rights he had unequivocally acquired the moment he'd married her, but the fact that she would go as far as prostituting herself for him in the truest sense of the word caused nausea to rise in his stomach. He knew that Catherine did not recoil from any extreme and had a tendency to let herself be carried away by her immoral and daring actions but her previous offer just shocked him beyond all measure.

His former self might have even been tempted to accept her offer. If only because he wanted to see if Catherine would carry matters to the limit. But he couldn't. As much as he hated to admit it, he had changed over the last couple of weeks. She had changed him. The love he felt for his wife had softened him.

Feeling shocked, he poured himself a large glass of whiskey and emptied it in one draught. Another glass followed. Shortly thereafter Stephane dropped himself in one of the lounge chairs and buried his face in his hands in frustration.  
How could he have been so stupid to let himself be guided purely by his feelings for this woman? Feelings he'd tried so hard to suppress for ages that only surfaced in a fearful moment full of terror.

He had manoeuvred himself into a vulnerable and attackable position and now he was seriously surprised that Catherine de' Medici was trying to exploit this weakness for her own purposes? How foolish he was!  
But did she really think that it was mainly his libido who mastered his actions? And above all did Cathrine think he had so little respect for her that he would seriously engage in something that caused her discomfort? What kind of man did she think he was?

The longer he thought about it, the more angry he got. But his anger was mostly directed at himself.  
He knew Catherine and how her brilliant mind worked and truth be told - the way he had treated and exploited her in the past was probably one of the reasons she came up with the whole idea of offering her body and sexual services as a means of payment in the first place.  
He as well as her late husband had very clearly shown her that women were just objects to men. Objects placed at their disposal to satisfy their sexual hunger.

Catherine and the love she had probably felt for Henry in the early years of their marriage had been terribly mistreated by the King of France.  
And he hadn't treated her any better. No wonder her love belonged exclusively to her children now. For them she would do everything, including selling her own body.

"Oh, Catherine," he murmured desperately.  
The realization of what he had to do now hurt more than the slap in the face she had given him. He had to distance himself, keep his hands off of her and stay aloof.  
He didn't care that church and Crown granted him every right to claim his wife, no matter whether she liked it or not. He simply wouldn't.

Since Catherine had quite impressively proved today that her motivations remained a riddle wrapped up in an enigma, he would not touch her for the time being. No matter how much he longed for her and her tempting little body. Because he only wanted to have sex with women who did participate voluntarily. Not to mention making love with his wife and the woman he loved.  
And as long as she did not seek his nearness and touch herself, she was taboo for him.

The Lord Chancellor rose to pour himself another glass of whiskey. Just when he put it to his lips he registered a movement at the doorframe. For a millisecond he expected to see his wife who went down as well, looking for him.  
But the figure looming in the dark was Rafael who first looked questioning at his brother, then at the alcohol in his hand and in the end at Stephane's bare feet.  
"I know it's none of my business, but..."  
"Damn right, it isn't!" Stephane interrupted the younger man.  
"Don't take it out on me, brother. I'm not to blame for the domestic crisis you're facing with Catherine right now."  
Rafael stepped next to Stephane and poured himself a glass whiskey as well. "Don't give me that look. You'd have to be deaf to miss out on your heated argument", Rafael explained unasked and briefly raised his glass to a toast before he took a sip. "Oh, that's really good."

"Scottish whiskey. A wedding gift from the Queen of Scots. Finally I seem to understand the meaning behind it. From today's perspective she should have sent a full barrel instead of just one single bottle" Stephane mused while looking extensively at the amber liquid before washing it down in one gulp.  
"I thought you and Queen Mary do not get along with each other?"  
"We don't. That's why Catherine got a enormous chest full of wedding gifts and I just got this bottle of whiskey with the instruction to use it wisely."

Rafael laughed and actually discovered Mary's comment on the body of the bottle.  
"At least she has a great sense of humor. Just like your wife. But I suppose you don't feel like laughing right now?"  
"No, I'm more in the mood of killing someone. Slowly and as painful as possible."  
His brother raised his hands in defense, then he circled the escritoire and dropped himself onto the same chair Narcisse had been sitting on just a minute before.  
"What is it you did?"  
"Why do you assume it's me who did something wrong?" Stephane shot back indignantly and took the second chair. He placed the bottle between them.  
"Just a hunch."  
"Whatever. I'm still trying to figure her out but obviously I seem to keep on failing. Most of the time I don't even know if I want to kiss or strangle her."

Rafael shook his head, a mild smile on his lips.  
"Catherine de 'Medici is not a wife for beginners. But you are well experienced. Although it would be interesting to know why that hell of a woman decided to marry you of all things."  
Stephane, who had been expecting this question since his brother's arrival, sighed heavily and confessed. "She had no other choice. And that is just one of the many problems we are constantly facing. Two others are her stubbornness and my very own stupidity, since I've previously entertained a dirty little affair with her. An affair that ended the worst possible way. I have to be honest with you: In my entire live I've never met a woman like her before. She is smart, ruthless, cunning, incredibly strong-minded. And on the other hand she can be sensitive, gentle and loyale as hell. This woman is provoking things in me that scare me to death. In a positive as well in a negative sense."

"So you're telling me you've finally found your female counterpart?! All things considered I would say the benefits of this marriage predominate. You have feelings for her, big brother. Real feelings that go beyond lust or possessiveness. I've seen the looks you throw her way when you think no one's looking, Stephane." That high degree of passion of Rafael's little speech surprised his older brother.  
"Do not remind me of these damned feelings. You have no idea how much I'm cursing them right now. Catherine only knows one kind of love. The one she feels for her family, for her children. Men, on the other hand, are only means to an end, nothing more than an unavoidable evil or to satisfy her sexual desire with."

"That's nonsense. She likes you. There is real affection in her eyes when she looks at you. And you must not forget - this marriage makes you a member of her family."  
"Not in her eyes," Stephane muttered.  
"Of course, brother. She even counts me in and has allowed me to stay for that reason alone, despite my faux-pas. I'm sure you two will overcome these obstacles. Whom loves passionately, also argues passionately. Give her some time to cool off and enjoy the great fortune of being able to call such a passionate and spirited woman yours. There are men who envy you", Rafael said and Stephane wondered if he was talking about himself.

Narcisse pointed at the bottle, but his brother waved it off. "You need it more than I do. Good night." With these words the younger man said goodbye and left Stephane alone with his whiskey and his rotating thoughts.  
It was only after midnight when the man of the house retired to one of the vacant rooms where he intended to stay for the time being. The temptation to continue sharing a room with Catherine was great but after what happened this evening he had to act with caution.


	30. Chapter 30

For the next few days Narcisse tried to stay out of Catherine's way in order to avoid any further confrontation. There was this tense, almost hostile atmosphere that also affected their servants.  
He didn't know whether Catherine appreciated or regretted him moving out of their shared chambers as both of them didn't ever mention it.  
For all he knew she still went for a ride almost daily and he let her but for the time being he ordered Fabrice to follow her at some distance and made him responsible for her well-being on these rides.  
The episode in the thunderstorm along with the anxiety he had to endure lasted him a lifetime.

Rafael's presence turned out to be a blessing as both brothers had some catching up to do and the time they spent together improved their relationship significantly. And he distracted him from his marital problems and the helplessness he wasn't used to feel where women were concerned.  
For he still didn't know how to deal with Catherine and the unpleasant situation they got themself into. Stephane still felt completely overwhelmed. How in the name of god should he behave towards her? It never was his intention to banish her from his daily life but the feelings that she was causing him were overly powerful and he feared being carried away or doing somenthing ill-advised by just one false or rebellious word she might say.  
So he chose the cowardly way of ignorance. At least until he came up with an idea how to be close to her again without coming undone with desire or anger.  
If his behavior irritated her, she didn't give him the slightest indication but hid her feelings behind a graceful mask of indifference.

During meals their conversations were usually about little John or matters of state. In addition Rafael had a talent to loosen up the tension by telling them little anecdotes about his adventures abroad.

"We have received an invitation to Lord and Lady Lelange's Autumn Ball. Would you like to go?" Catherine surprisingly addressed him while they waited for their desserts.  
Stephane scrutinizingly looked at his wife who was wearing a low-cut velvet dress tonight that was showing off her soft curves impressively.  
"If you want to go we can accept the invitation," he answered diplomatically whereupon Catherine rolled her eyes at him.

"Does this mean our Lord Chancellor leaves it up to his wife to make a decision?" Her snappy response didn't surprise him at all and for peace's sake he refrained from a harsh reply.  
"Yeah, you're perfectly welcome to decide for us, Catherine." Though he tried to suppress his frustration, his voice sounded anything but calm.  
"Typical," she snorted.  
"What? First you raise a complaint about me making decisions without consulting you first and in case I leave it up to you, you still have something to complain about?" He just couldn't figure out this woman.  
"Sure. Fine. Whatever. Well, then we're going."

Their servants chose this very moment to serve numerous plates loaded with sweet treats. The sight of the food immediately softened Catherine's features and something that could almost be interpreted as a smile appeared on her face.  
In order not to dampen the prevailing mood even further the Lord Chancellor relinquished any further comment but focused on his dessert instead.

"What if this is some kind of a trap?"  
His wife suddenly broke the silence while lowering her fork she was just about to put into her mouth.  
"Excuse me?" Stephane looked up from his plate in irritation.  
"This invitation! They only invited us Stephane, not Charles. And you have spread the information that Charles is with us right now. So accepting this invitation would mean leaving the King of France behind with only a small battalion of guards, as the Lord Chancellor and Queen Mother surely will not travel unguarded. Accepting this invitation would force us to divide our forces. And this would leave Charles more vulnerable than ever before."

"Isn't this a little far-fetched to believe? Who shall be behind a conspiracy of that magnitude? Lord Lelange? As far as I can tell he has always been loyal to Henry."  
Catherine appeared to consider his words. She pushed back her half-empty plate and started to play with her wedding ring, absorbed in thought.  
"Hasn't Lelange lost two of his merchant ships recently? I also seem to remember him selling off a significant part of his lands last year." Catherine had risen and circled the table.  
"Then Lelange may be an ill-fated or lousy businessman for all I care but that does not make him a traitor of the crown!"

"Or maybe some unknown enemy of the crown wants to use this invitation for his own benefit? This train of thought seems plausible. And as far as I understand it there are more than enough individual or even groups of people who may feel ill-disposed towards the Valois family." Rafael suddenly intervened, supporting Catherine and her wild theory.  
"We're talking about an invitation to a ball! And you two suspect a conspiracy behind it?"  
"Stephane, even if this invitation is not a conspiracy per se, yet our acceptance would mean taking a serious risk nevertheless. If we can develop a thought like this – who else could come up with this idea? No one is aware that Charles isn't with us but staying in the monastery."

His wife came to a halt just behind him and clasped his shoulders with her hands to give point to her words. Rafael nodded in agreement at the other end of the table.  
"Okay, point taken - it would be a good opportunity. Theoretically. So what do you propose we do?" Stephane raised one of his hands and placed it over Catherine's smaller one.  
"Decline, of course. We certainly will not give them such an opportunity on a gold plate."

Slowly the Lord Chancellor turned on his chair. He clasped his wife's waist and gently pulled her in his direction until he could look her straight in the eye.  
"Or we accept the invitation for the sake of appearance, lure these bastards here and give them a most fitting welcome that will send them straight to hell!"


	31. Chapter 31

When Catherine retired to her room earlier than usual that day, a roaring fire has already been ignited, which pleasantly warmed the room and bathed it in a mild light.  
Sighing heavily, the queen mother let herself fall onto one of the armchairs and took off her drop-dead gorgeous, yet extremely uncomfortable new shoes.  
One of the young maids poked her head in the room shortly thereafter and asked her mistress if she needed anything.  
"I would like to take a bath," Catherine decided after brief consideration. It would do her good to wash away the stress and tensions of the last few days in a hot bubble bath.

The girl nodded docilely and disappeared again to instruct the other servants.  
When her maid returned with a shy smile, she helped the Queen Mother out of her dress and loosened the corset. Then she busied herself with preparing the bed while Catherine sat down in front of her vanity, only wearing her thin dressing gown and started removing her make-up. She put on a vitamin-packed face mask to fill in the time until her bath was ready.

A gentle knock prompted her to pause mid motion.  
"See who has the nerve to disturb me this late," she said ungraciously as the girl nodded and walked to the door.  
"Catherine?" Her husband's deep voice made her turn around.  
"Stephane. What a surprise. First you move out of our joint chambers you forced me to share with you and now you even start knocking? What's next? Separate residences or maybe a divorce?"

She wasn't able to hide her vulnerability behind her harsh words. Not that she wasn't accustomed to such a treatment by her former husband but it had even taken Henry several years to show her such indifference.  
"Don't be silly, ma Belle. You will not get rid of me that easily." The approving look he gave her nearly nude body gave Catherine goosebumps.  
"Then what do you want?", She asked and turned back to her dressing table to gently dab her face with a damp cloth.  
"I want to talk to you about this potential ambush."

"Your Grace, your bath is ready." Catherine, grateful for the interruption, nodded silently and stood up.  
"I'm afraid this will have to wait, husband," she informed him. As she passed Stephane, she did not fail to notice his gaze moving over her half dressed body once again. His eyes got stuck at the gaping ends of her dressing gown to catch a glimpse of the valley between her breasts.  
"Please!", She hissed and went into the adjoining room.

Warm steam with the sweet smell of rose petals and lavender struck her once she entered their bathing room. To her surprise, Stephane followed her and signaled the maid that she was dismissed. Catherine acknowledged the liberty he took with a raised eyebrow and a smug smile. Her husband still wanted her, despite their differences. She took a strange form of delight in this knowledge.  
"Why not mix business with pleasure?" The Lord Chancellor asked and the playfulness of his tone was a clear sign that he would neither postpone their conversation, nor did he intended to miss her bath.  
"Obviously I won't be able to stop you," she murmured and simply shrugged her shoulders. Then she carefully tested the temperature of the water with one hand.

Satisfied with the result, Catherine walked around the tub, deliberately swaying her hips more than usual. She flashed Stephane a brief but provocatively glance over her shoulder before letting her dressing gown slide down her form. And although she could not see Stephane's face the moment the garment hit the floor and revealed her naked body, his loud gasp for air couldn't be missed at all.

Catherine slowly climbed the step stool that made getting in the tub more easier. To her surprise, Stephane held out his hand to assist her. She looked at him questioningly but his smile was so open and inviting that she could do nothing but accept the help he offered.  
With a contented sigh she plunged into the hot water. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes for a brief moment to let the alluring aroma of her bath water indulge her senses. After some minutes she noticed how her tired body perceptible started to relax. She opened her eyes when her mind threatened to make leeway and looked up in the expectant face of her husband, who had made himself comfortable on the windowsill meanwhile and had obviously watched her for the last few minutes.

"You wanted to talk - then talk!" She finally told him to bridge the silence that had spread between them.  
"Always so direct", Stephane laughed in amusement and leaned back in his niche. "I've been constantly thinking about this ambush. And the more I think about it, the more uncomfortable I get."  
"I thought we have agreed on that?" The Lord Chancellor placatingly raised his hand to stop the torrent of words that threatened to follow her statement.  
"I'm not here because I've changed my mind, Catherine. But I do not like the idea of fending off a potential attack with only the number of guards we've brought."  
"Why not withdraw some men from our troops?" she suggested with growing impatience.  
"We are in no position to disperse our forces any further. Empty treasury, the English threat, border controls, rising turmoils - you know what I mean. No matter where I take them off, they'll be missed somewhere else."

Gradually Catherine understood what her husband wanted to point out. She slightly turned in the bathtube, resting her elbows on the wooden rim to look directly into his eyes.  
"So our only option left is hiring mercenary soldiers. But you need gold for these soldiers. And you're hoping for Medici gold."  
"My wife is not only incredibly beautiful, she's also intelligent and maybe a little too clever for her own good." From anyone else, those words would have sounded hollow, if not offensive, but Stephane managed for them to sound like a genuine compliment.  
"But unfortunately she is not wealthy. At least not anymore." She felt sorry for disappointing him.  
"Can't you ask your family for financial support?" His words caused her to snort in disparagement. Then she let herself fall back into the tub, what nearly caused the water to spill over.  
"I'm not exactly darling of my family. But my dear departed cousin was whose tragical death is unfortunately blamed on me, which keeps the Medici's chests of gold closed and out of my reach."

Stephane acknowledged her explanation with a sigh and she raised her head slightly to look in his direction.  
"What?" She asked, certain that something else was still on his mind. When he did not answer immediately, she reached for the lavender soap and a sponge, that were placed on the edge of the tub. Consciously, the queen mother soaped the sponge and began to wash her arms. She was more than aware that his eyes were still following her every movement.  
"For some time I've been wondering what happened to Bornelle's gold. You of all people wouldn't know anything about it, wouldn't you, Catherine?" She paused in her motion at that question and thought for a moment how exactly she was going to respond.  
"I don't have it," she said carefully, stretching her left leg to lather it as well. As expected, Stephane's attention went straight there. Catherine deliberately took her time, slowly letting the sponge glide over her exposed skin. She knew her husband had a weakness for women taking a bath, so she decided to use that knowledge against him.

"But I assume you know damn well who's got it." Stephane's voice sounded a bit husky as he rose to shorten the distance between them. Before he could touch her leg, however, she let it glide back beneath the water. Catherine rose her left leg instead and placed it on the edge of the tub on the other side - out of his reach. With a smug grin she continued to wash herself.  
"I might have a hunch," she revealed once she was satisfied with the result and straightened up so that her breasts appeared above the water surface. "But that does not help us any further. How about your family? You have more siblings, as I have recently learned."  
"I'm afraid they aren't feeling too friendly towards me."

Catherine lathered the sponge one more time and began to wash her upper body in a sensual way. His eyes were fixed on her breasts.  
"You could involve Rafael. Maybe he can help or even mediate if needed," she suggested, stroking the sponge in a circling motion over her right breast, causing Stephane to utter a low moan. With a self-satisfied smile, she turned to the other breast before slowly letting the sponge slide down her torso until it disappeared in the warm water between her legs.  
"Dear Lord, you're killing me here," her husband murmured in arousal, trying to reach for her. The bump in his pants was hard to miss. But Catherine avoided his grasp.

"You only wanted to talk, if I remember correctly," she said, holding up the dripping sponge. "But you could make yourself useful. Scrub my back?" As expected, Stephane nodded more than willingly and Catherine turned her back to him with a smug grin on her face. So her husband still wanted her.  
With light pressure he first washed her shoulders and then her back. The whole thing took him longer than necessary, but she let him.  
"Done," he announced after an eternity and when she turned, he gave her a transfigured grin.   
"Would you hand me a towel, please?" She asked, slowly getting out of the water. Her husband stared at her naked form for a few seconds too long before he nodded and reached behind him to grab said towel.  
Invitingly, he held it out for her and to her surprise he did not just hand it over, but affectionately wrapped her in it and helped her out of the tub.

Catherine dried herself off while trying to ignore his gaze that was still mainly focused on her. Meanwhile her husband gave the impression that talking wasn't all he craved anymore.  
She meticulously applied lotion on her body and his eyes continued to devour her. But it was not until she released her pinned-up hair when he approached her again and ran his fingers through her long curls.  
"You want to have sex," she stated bluntly which made him pause.  
"Only if you want it as well." Though she shouldn't be surprised at his response after their heated argument a week ago, she still was.  
"Well, actually I wanted to retire early to read, but if you want to, it's okay I guess."

Having Sex with her husband was always a fabulous experience. And she was vain enough to enjoy the fact that even a woman of her advanced age could drive a sensual and experienced man like Stephane out of his mind. She just did not want to get herself into this situation too obviously. But maybe a renewed sexual approach would minimize the gap between them.  
Stephane was clearly not aversed.

He gently turned her head in his direction and cupped her face with his fingers before he kissed her.  
"It's only okay in case you want it as well, ma Belle. Do not worry, I won't run away. Making love should never be a compromise but a both-sided desire," he whispered against her lips. Then he kissed her one more time in such a sweet and innocent way that almost brought tears to her eyes. "Good night, Catherine."

The Lord Chancellor released her and walked towards the door. She could do nothing but stare at him perplexed. How could he just leave now?  
"Stephane?" She did not know why she stopped him and what she wanted to tell him exactly.  
"You'd better not put my self-control to the test, my dear." With these words he left their chambers.

Catherine helplessly stared at the door where her husband had just disappeared. She would have liked to stop him, tell him that she trusted him and missed him and his closeness. A closeness he had initially imposed on her in such a dominant and shameless manner. But now she actually liked how naturally it felt when he pulled her into his arms. She was feeling safe and secure with him. Protected.  
But she simply couldn't overcome her pride by telling him that or inviting him back into their bed. She was too damn proud for that.


	32. Chapter 32

With mixed feelings Catherine watched the black carriage roll down the wide driveway at a leisurely pace until it disappeared behind the first bend.  
"I hope we are doing the right thing," she muttered thoughtful.  
"There's only one way to find out." Stephane, who had taken position right beside her near the window, stroked her arm in a feathery, nearly imperceptible motion and then went back to his desk. "But I trust your intuition."  
The queen mother turned slowly and studied her husband. She did not want to be right in this matter, but her gut instinct was rarely ever wrong.  
"I do not like the number of unknowns in this equation. Not to mention that we do not know if it's a plot at all. We do not know anything about our supposed opponents, their intentions, the size of their fighting force and whether Rafael will receive any support from Lord Fournier is also questionable."

Her brother-in-law had left three days ago to ask a man for help whom he had met during one of his trips and who obviously owed him a favor. Whether or how this lord could help them was still an open question.  
Nonetheless, it was their best option. After all, they had already accepted the invitation thus set the ball rolling.

Inside the dissapearing coach sat a splendidly dressed kitchen boy and one of the maids, wearing one of Catherine's noble robes. The scant dozen of guards were ordered to escort the carriage for a few miles and then return in a wide berth under cover of darkness. Stepahne and Catherine would not show themselves in the next few days and in case they needed to leave the chateau they would forgo wearing their usual, sovereign clothes for the not unrealistic case that their small castle will be observed in the meantime.

The very idea of presenting themselves as targets did not please her at all. Their chateau was small, surrounded by a thick forest and far enough from the nearest villages to provide not only a perfect retreat but also a perfect objective for a hostile siege. Stephane, feeling her growing unrest, approached her again and wrapped one arm around her waist.  
"Do not worry, ma Belle," he murmured while letting the fingers of his other hand slide up and down her side.  
"If it weren't for this woeful waiting."

Catherine's gaze was drawn out into the distance. The light breeze that came up in the morning had gained strength in the meantime and tore almost violently on the branches of trees that lead to their courtyard.  
"Looks like there's going to be a thunderstorm," she said quietly, watching the dark clouds that began to pile up ominously.  
"A heavy downpour may flush these bastards out of the forest in good time."  
"I can't shake the feeling that you can't hardly wait," she whispered and wriggled out of his grasp. Then she began to nervously pace up and down the room.

Less than two hours later torrential rain started to pour down and some lightning illuminated the dark sky not far from their chateau. The sound of a deep roll of thunder followed shortly thereafter.  
"I'll go check on John," Catherine muttered worriedly and hurried to the little boy's room, who had become so dear to her in such a short time. Her grandson however, slumbered calmly in his little bed and seemed oblivious to the roaring forces of nature on the outside. Nonetheless she sat down next to him for a moment and gently stroked his blond hair.  
"Call me, should he wakes up frightened," she instructed his nanny and placed a loving kiss on John's forehead before leaving the boy's room.

When the Queen Mother hurried down the curved staircase, her eyes involuntarily went to the courtyard and the stables behind. Immediately her mind wandered to her chestnut mare who tends to react panic-stricken in a thunderstorm as she had found out the hard way. Catherine turned around on her heels and raced up the stairs once again.

With blowing skirts she sank to her knees in front of the cabinet where she kept a small number of her poisons, remedies and tinctures and started searching for a special sedative with eager fingers. After a few seconds she held up a small green bottle in triumph. Something that could sedate a human would probably also be able to calm down her favourite horse.

Catherine straightened up again and looked out into the pouring rain just when the sky was lit up by another flash of lighting. In self-doubt she looked down at her elegant, gold-colored dress made of expensive indian silk.  
"Impossible," she mumbled, remembering their agreement not to leave the chateau in pompous clothes from now on. So she untied the frontal lacing of her dress and stripped off the bulky fabric. From the adjoining dressing room she chose a simple berry-colored, almost dowdy dress she only wore for her rides.  
As she was still wearing her corset, the dress had a loose fit.

With practiced fingers Catherine disengage her tied up hair to remove her precious diadem her maid had lavishly woven into her locks this morning. Once she finally freed the jewelry, she did not bother with her hair any longer but tied it into a simple braid. Then she got into her boots, grabbed the vial and stormed down the stairs.  
In the hall she slipped into one of the gray maid's capes and quietly left the building.  
The Queen Mother didn't notice the shadow, that broke away from the wall and followed her out into the torrential rain.


	33. Chapter 33

With his collar up to protect him against the pouring rain, Fabrice Darntelle hurried after his master's wife. In recent days, he had unperceived accompanied Catherine de' Medici on several rides to ensure her safety. And even though Lord Narcisse had not explicitly told him to escort his wife this evening, he still felt responsible for her well-being.

The storm relentlessly whipped raindrops into his face and forced him to squint his eyes for a moment to blink away the wetness.  
The Queen Mother had already passed the front area of the courtyard and was rushing towards the stables, her posture upright as to defy the storm. Fabrice quickened his pace as not to fall behind.

But before he could catch up with the Lord Chancellor's wife, the Frenchman saw a movement out of the corner of his eye. His right hand instantly went to his sword while he whirled around in alarm. Just in time to evade an arrow. The missile missed him by a hairbreadth and even in spite of the pouring rain, he still heard it's hissing noise close to his ear.

His eyes searched for the assassin in the woozy dusk. He spotted him only half a second later.  
A marksman with a crossbow had positioned himself at the eastern end of the property that bordered on a deep forest and fired another arrow in his direction.  
Fabrice dodged this second arrow and risked a look to check if Catherine was in danger as well, but she had already disappeared into the stables. Thanks god!

However, his concern for his mistress and the waylaid shooter distracted him so much that he did not notice the two men approaching him from behind.  
The blade that pierced his side seconds later immediately drove a burning pain through his nerve tracts.

Nevertheless, he sprang around in a flash, yanked up his sword and attacked the first man who obviously had not expected such a fast reaction from him.  
The two men weren't as skilled as Fabrice, but thanks to their superiority, they clearly had an advantage.

The Lord Chancellor's bodyguard disarmed the first attacker with a heavy blow against his arm but could not dodge the other man in time as he slammed his short sword right into his lower abdomen.

Fabrice jerked back but he was unable to escape the full blow of the attack. New pain spread rapidly through his body and forced him down on his knees. A well-aimed kick against his wound made him scream out loud and Fabrice Darntelle collapsed motionlessly on the rain-soaked ground.

Catherine, who was unaware of the drama taking place in front of the stables, pushed open the heavy door and slipped through the narrow opening. The well-known smell of horses, straw and manure struck her instantly.

She was surprised to find the building bathed in a soft light and not as dark as expected.

Pale candlelight flickered from the tack room, that was located on the other side behind the stalls.  
The Queen Mother took off her hood and slowly walked down the long corridor along the horse boxes. She stopped in front of Liberté's stall and looked at her favorite mare sceptically.

The reclusive horse was standing in the opposing corner of her box, nervously shifting her weight from one hoof to the other. Her ears twitched back and force in a nervous manner.  
Though she responded to Catherine's gentle persuasion, the mare did not let herself be lured out of her corner.

So Catherine gave up and hurried to the back of the stables where not only the saddles and harnesses were stored but also the animals food to get a handfull of oats she wanted to mix with the sedative.

When she rounded the corner, she saw two huddled figures under the saddles and stopped dead in her tracks.  
In one of them she recognized their always grumpy head of groom. The other was the stable boy.

The older man had a gaping wound on his forehead where fresh blood was seeped from that slowly and steadily run down his weather-beaten face. Both were bound and gagged, staring at her with wide eyes.

Catherine hurried towards the men. Suddenly an inarticulate noise came out of the stable master's throat. She could not understand what he was trying to tell her because of the gag. She looked questioning from one man to the other and noticed the stable boy's eyes growing unnaturally wide.

Before Catherine could react, she was torn back violently and found herself roughly pressed against the wall. She dropped her vial with the sedative and one of the pegs for the bridle pierced itself painfully into the flesh of her lower back.  
"Well, what do we have here?"

A heavily built man with a pockmarked face, crooked teeth and a terrible foul breath stared down at her with a glassy look on his face. His powder blue eyes glanced appraisingly over her body while his hard grip on her upper arms immobilised her.  
"Take your filthy hands off of me!" She demanded indignantly and tried to free herself.

The stranger let out a booming laugh and jerked her so close that she could feel his nauseating breath on her face. Utterly disgusted, the Queen Mother wrinkle her nose but stared defiantly right back at the man.

"Well, well, well, somebody has a temper. I like feisty women." He made a strange whistling noise and laughed again, as if amused by his own words. "I'm just wondering what a splendid hussy like you is doing in the stables in the middle of a thunderstorm. Are you here for an amorous tête-à-tête, eh?"

His huge hand sank painfully into the skin of her left upper arm and he dragged Catherine out of the corner and yanked her in front of the captivated men.  
"Don't tell me it's one of those laughing stocks, sweetheart!?"  
The ruffian looked assessingly between her head groom and the young lad.

The Lord Chancellor's wife took advantage of his distraction and rammed the heel of her boot right into his foot, causing him to shriek in pain and loosen his grip on her. Catherine react with lightning speed and broke free from him.  
With flying skirts she stormed towards the front door at the far end of the stable.

Only to collide with a solid chest before she could reach the saving exit.


	34. Chapter 34

"What the hell is going on here?", roared a deep baritone that undoubtedly belonged to the broad chest she had crashed into. Sun-tanned hands grabbed her shoulders and shoved her back a bit to get a better look at her.

"Esteban!" The ruffian cried out in alarm and Catherine could not tell whether out of relieve or shock. Maybe both. "I've got it all under control."  
"Yes, I can see that," the other man replied slowly, glancing once again at Catherine. The cold, calculating way his eyes scanned her appearance made her skin start to crawl and the fine hairs on the back of her neck to raise up. This Esteban person was much more dangerous than the ruffian, this she knew for sure.

"What is the meaning of all of this?" She demanded to know, putting all her authority into her question.  
"I was just about to ask you the very same question. What are you doing here in the stables, in the middle of a thunderstorm?" Esteban asked in a piercing voice.  
"She's here for a little amorous tête-à-tête with her lover," the first man explained and leered at her, causing Catherine to moan in annoyance and to roll her eyes.

Behind them, the door opened and two men appeared in the corridor, groaning loadly and dragging behind some kind of a bag.  
"We will see." Esteban's right hand closed viselike around her wrist and the tall man dragged a fiercely resisting Catherine towards the entrance.

Only now did she realize that it wasn't a heavy object but a human being they were tearing at.  
But she only recognized her husband's right-hand when they were standing right in front of his motionless form.  
Terrified, she dropped to her knees next to Fabrice and did not even notice that the grip on her wrist had loosed.  
"Oh my God!" She exclaimed when she realized that his clothes were soaked not only in rain but also in blood.

"I'm afraid your rendezvous for a roll in the hay needs to be canceled," chuckled the ruffian, who just seemed to be having the time of his life. Esteban was content with watching her Argus-eyed.  
"I just hope for your sake that he's still alive", She hissed angrily and leaned down to the injured man.

To her relief, he was still breathing. Although his breath was flat and irregular.  
Without hesitation she examined his upper body and found two wounds. The larger one was located at his lower abdomen. And he was loosing lots of blood which worried her.

Catherine's eyes scanned the dark stable area but found nothing she could use to stop the massive bleeding. So she reached for the hem of her skirts and ripped off a long rag she immediately pressed onto the larger of the two wounds.  
When she looked up at Fabrice's chalk-white face, his eyes flickered and opened. Seconds later his throat released a tormented moan.  
"Easy, don't try to get up" she instructed him gently but firmly, paying no attention to the four men whose eyes were resting mainly on her and her doing.

When the fabric was completely soaked by his blood, Catherine once again tugged at her dress with growing concern. But this time she wasn't able to tear off another rag. A frustrated sound escaped her lips.  
Then the material finally gave way. She threw the first compress aside and put pressure on the wound, causing Fabrice to groan in pain. His whole body tensed up.

After some minutes he gave in to the pain and willed his body to relax. His hands started to search his body for other wounds.  
The Queen Mother tore at her dress and handed him another piece of cloth.  
"If you can, press this on the other wound."

Fabrice followed her instructions, though she could tell by his expression how painful this had to be. Catherine lowered her eyes anxiously.  
Blood kept seeping out between her fingers. Way too much blood.

"Hang on," she whispered, failing to banish the helpless out of her voice she was feeling.

The man who had been her shadow for the last few days opened his mouth and muttered something. Catherine had to lean forward to understand him. She noticed that a small trickle of blood was trickling down the corner of his mouth.

"My boot," he whispered so faintly that only she could understand. As inconspicuously as possible she let her gaze glide down his legs, but did not notice anything unusual about his footwear. "Wea... Weapon, be careful." His words were nothing but a strained croak, but they immediately increased Catherines heart rate.

Carefully as not to arouse their suspicion she slid down again and lifted the fabric from his gaping wound, which was still bleeding profusely. With the power of desperation, she tore another shred off of her dress. This time, however, she neatly placed her skirts over his lower legs so that they covered his boots.

With one hand she pressed the fresh fabric on the wound, while her right hand wanded to his shoes. When her fingers touched the cool butt of a dagger, her heart leaped with excitement.

Catherine tried to cover her excitement as not to give her finding away while she slowly pulled the weapon out of his boot leg and slid it into the shaft of her own boot. The cold blade against her ankle felt grandiose and gave her new hope.

When she let her gaze wander back to Fabrice's face, she noticed that he had closed his eyes meanwhile and that his features seemed strangely relaxed. Alarmed, she grabbed his arm to feel his pulse. But there was none.

Catherine put her hand on his chest, desperately searching for the lifting and lowering, a small sign that there was still some spark of life in her loyal guardian. But that last spark was gone.

She was stuck by a sense of bewilderment and sadness. Tormented, Catherine let out a sound of grief. Then she grabbed Fabrice's hands and gently folded them on his chest. She silently stared at his motionless figure before she raised her head and angrily stared at the intruders with a dirty look, both men were still looking down at her.

"Why did this good man had to die? Why are you here?" She screamed and rose to build herself up before Esteban. Her whole body quivered with anger, but the dark-haired devil did not even flinch.

"Do not be troubled, sweetheart. You may have it off with me, babe!" The ruffian teased her and pulled her closer despite her resistance. With a sardonic grin on his face he slapped her across the backside.

At this insolence the Queen Mother snorted in disgust and struck at the outrageous man with her bloodied hands. He just laughed at her and pulled her closer so she could smell his foul breath.  
"Don't. Touch. Me!" She said between clenched teeth and emphasized every single word.

To her surprise Esteban came to her aid by stepping between them.  
"Get a grip, Bertrand. Or have you already forgotten why we're here?" The strict tone of the apparent leader's voice tolerated no objection.


	35. Chapter 35

Catherine instantly tried to put some distance between herself and Bertrand. But Esteban's hand, that had vise-like tightened around her upper arm, prevented her from moving.

"Why the hurry?" he asked, eyeing her again with suspicion in his steel-gray, cold eyes. "I can't help but feel like I've met you before." All of a sudden he jerked her right arm up to examine her fingernails and tender skin more closely.  
"You are not a servant."'

Esteban dropped her hand and determinedly stepped back. His gaze wandered over her form once again. Catherine remained silent and stared at him with her chin raised defiantly.

"If I did not know it any better... but Catherine de Medici is sitting in that coach we saw leaving today." His words sounded doubtful and absent-minded.  
Catherine swallowed hard while her brain ran at full speed. Had she met this Esteban person before? And if so, when and where?   
"Or maybe not? Please correct me if I'm wrong." His cold eyes assessed her.

"I saw her leaving with my very own eyes," she replied, putting all her power of persuasion into her voice.  
The dark-haired man, who was dangerously towering over her, tilted his head slightly to one side and slowly started circling her with a calmness that caused her nerves to flutter.  
Catherine buried her sweaty and blood-soaked hands into her skirts. For though she did not know his true intentions, nonetheless she felt that she shouldn't reveal her true identity under any circumstances.

"I actually met her a few years ago, did you know that? At French court, shortly before King Henry passed away. A bloody spectacle, I have been told. Oh, what I wouldn't give to have witnessed such a marvellous tournament." He paused, as if taking a stroll down memonry lane. He was probably imagining Henry's painful end in all its gruesome details.

"I still remember being astonished at how tiny his Italian whore of a wife was. Not much bigger than you. I would even go so far as to say that the two of you measure exactly the same height." Esteban had now completely rounded her and stopped in front of her, lurking.  
And although his provocative words stirred her blood, a reaction he was obviously aiming for, Catherine mentally called herself to stay calm.

"How very observant you are. And obviously you are no friend of the house Valois. By your name I would say you're not even French." Catherine ignored the danger she was heading for with her eyes wide open and raised her right eyebrow in order to provoke him in return.

"Just because my mother was a whore who had a fable for exotic names does not mean that I'm not 100 percent French. I probably love my country more than any Valois brat ever will."  
"So you're nothing but a traitor of the Crown, Esteban?"  
The dark-haired man reduced the distance between them and glared down at her.  
"I am loyal to my king, woman. Or should I rather call you Your Majesty?" The stranger grabbed her chin and forced her to look up at him. She defiantly returned his gaze and wondered which king he was refering to. Antoine de Bourbon? Well, certainly not Charles.

"Do you honestly think Catherine de Medici would venture out to the stables, right in the middle of a thunderstorm, wearing a dress like this?" Catherine laughed out load and could actually find a spark of humor in this abstruse situation.

"What's there to laugh at?" Esteban prompted.  
"This surreal situation! Since it's normally my duty to double the Queen Mother. I'm her look-alike on various occasions and now I'm in the middle of a hostile siege where I'm de facto being mistaken for that Medici woman."  
She could only hope that the man bought her farce. It actually sounded so abstruse that even she would take that scenario into consideration.

To her surprise the ruffian joined in her laughter and Esteban gave him a warning, almost annihilating glare.  
Bertrand instantly fell silent, looking at his boots in embarrassment.

Catherine called herself to order. She couldn't afford exaggeration, as this would certainly make this Esteban even more suspicious.  
For - unlike the lustful ruffian - the dark-haired man was neither simple minded nor easy to distract from his ultimate goal.

A goal she could only speculate about. And though she still didn't know what purpose her enemies were pursuing, she knew that she should never underestimate their dangerousness nor Esteban's cold-bloodedness.

XXX

Stephane, who had laid aside the book of France's state revenue because of a growing headach half an hour ago, was now restlessly pacing up and down the window front of their drawing room.  
His eyes kept wandering out into the dark, stormy night. The uneasy feeling that had started after the departure of the coach this afternoon was slowly spreading in the pit of his stormach and had meanwhile grown into a foreboding of approaching disaster.

The Lord Chancellor would have liked to dismiss his apprehension as mere nervousness but his intuition and life experience had taught him that he could rely on his gut feeling.

To stem his worries, Stephane poured himself a goblet of wine and emptied half of it in one gulp. The heavy note of cedar wood immediately spread in his mouth and he closed his eyes for a few seconds to blisfully enjoy this exquisite wine.  
After another sip he opened his eyes, refilled the cup and filled another goblet for his wife. Then he left the salon and went in search of Catherine.

Contrary to his expectations, he did not find her in little John's room. So he went to her bed chamber. But to his surprise the room was deserted. Except for the pompous robe she had previously worn, crumpled and carelessly left on the floor. So Catherine must have been here. Sighing, Stephane set the goblets down and picked up her robe instead.

Then he peered into the adjoining bath-room, whose door was ajar, but she wasn't there either.  
"Catherine?" He shouted but didn't received an answer.

Feeling more and more worried, he called for the two servant girls, but none of them had seen his wife for some time.  
"One of her riding dresses is missing, Lord Narcisse," one girl reported and Stephane shook his head blankly.

Why the hell had Catherine replaced her robe with her riding dress? It was already late and a thunderstorm was raging right outside the window. Just then a flash of lightning lit up the room and all of a sudden Stephane knew what had driven his wife out into the storm.  
"Liberté," he murmured. Beeing solicitous about her favorite mare, she was probably visiting the stables. But considering their current situation this was anything but a good idea.

He tore his heavy coat from the wardrobe and hastily replaced his elaborately embroidered jacket with it. Then he stormed down the steps to the great hall.  
Through the windows in the stairwell he could actually see some light in the stables.

Suddenly an uncomfortable feeling made itself known in the pit of his stomach.  
"Come on!" He snapped at two of his guards. "We'll take a look around outside."


	36. Chapter 36

The three men stepped out into the pouring rain. It took Stephane's eyes a moment to adjust to the twilight.  
With a single wave of his hand he instructed Christian and Philippe to move out along the eastern and western border walls, while he headed straight for the stables.

His eyes scanned his surroundings but he couldn't detect anything unusual. Thus he pushed open the heavy wooden door and stepped inside the stable. The first thing he saw was a motionless and blood-soaked figure lying directly in front of him on the floor.  
"Fabrice?!" Stephane cried out the name of his lifelong friend. But before he could take another step the sharp blade of a sword was pressed against his neck.  
"It's like a dovecote in here. Esteban, we have another visitor!"

Alarmed but without moving, Stephane's eyes wandered over the two men, who kept him at bay with their swords and scowling glares. Both wore black, worn-out clothes that smelled of wet dogs and body odour. The taller one kept on keeping him in check with his blade against his throat, while the smaller one disarmed him and searched him for any hidden weapons.

"What's going on?" An authoritarian, deep voice came of the other end of the aisle and Narcisse saw a tall and slender man approaching him angrily. His facial expression was rigid and his eyes were hard and cold as polished stone. The closer this Esteban person came, the more certain the Lord Chancellor was that he has met this man before.

"Well, if this isn't the Lord Chancellor himself?!" A threatening undertone lay in these words. "I think I found something pretty that might belong to you. I assue you have already missed it?!" The smile that lay itself on his lips was dangerous, smug and calculating.

"I don't know who you are but I can recognize a man being guilty of treason a mile away!" Stephanes outburst was acknowledged with an uncomfortably growing pressure against his throat.  
"I am the man who will go down in history as the one who has eradicated the reign of the Valois line," the dark-haired man replied sardonically and motioned for him and his men to follow him. A second later the Lord Chancellor was rudely pushed forward.  
"Move!"

Esteban signaled them to stop in the middle of the aisle. He covered the last few meters on his own with a spring in his step and disappeared into the tack room. It took him less than two seconds to appear again.  
He wasn't alone but dragged a struggling Catherine behind. The sight of her and the wild look in her eyes made Stephane's blood run cold.

"That's what I thought," the man triumphed with a dangerous smile on his face. He stopped directly in front of the Lord Chancellor and violently threw Stephanes wife against one of the wooden stalls. Catherine gave a startled cry, but what shocked Stephane the most were her bloody hands and dress.

The hostage-taker buried his fist in Catherine's hair and rudely pulled her head closer to grab her chin.  
"Maybe you can shed some light on this. Do tell Lord Chancellor, is this..."  
But before he could finish his sentence, she interrupted him.  
"Stephane, denial is pointless. I have already told him that I am not Catherine de Medici."

Her statement irritated Stephane, but the intensity of her gaze prevented him from questioning what had just been said. So he just nodded silently, hoping not only to convince the other man but also trying to make his wife understand that he was playing along. He could only hope that Catherine knew what she was doing.

All of a sudden the wiry man let go of his wife. Stephane saw his eyes lighten up with something cold-blooded and dangerous a second before he struck off and knocked his wife down with a brutal punch in her face without warning.  
"Shut the fuck up, whore," Esteban screamed at her and Stephane rushed forward, out of his mind with rage and worry. But he was pulled back by the two men behind him before he could reach Catherine.

"And you'd better watch out. No woman is worth losing ones life because of her." Esteban threatened him and slowly walked towards the Lord Chancellor.

Stephane shook his head in refusal and tried to break free while his gaze anxiously rested on his beat wife, who crouched on the floor and carefully examined her chin. Fresh blood was trickling from the corner of her mouth.  
"Let's go back to my question. Is this woman your wife, Lord Narcisse?"  
"I've already told you that I'm not Catherine de Medici, but her doppelganger."  
Catherine's words drew their enemies attention back to her. A development that was anything but comforting for Stephane.

"She speaks the truth. She is not Catherine." He had no idea why his wife wanted to keep the men in the dark about her true identity, but he trusted her instincts and could only hope that his confirmation was enough to convince them. "She's my mistress," he added, trying to make it clear that she belonged to him nevertheless. Catherine answered his claim with an annoyed roll of her eyes.

"Now we finally know for whom she was waiting for, Esteban. Just look how he stares at her. Like a lovesick fool. Clearly our fine Lord Chancellor cheats on his wife with her own doppelganger." A sturdy man who had held himself in the background until now chuckled with amusement and stepped out of the shadows.

"Maybe," Esteban answered, still looking anything but convinced. "We saw two people getting into the carriage. Who accompanies the queen mother?"  
"My very own doppelganger," Stephane lied promptly whereupon the other man nodded, absorbed in his thoughts.

"Are you in cahoots with Lord Lelange?" Stephane asked to distraction him further from his wife. But his question just coaxed a mirthless laugh out of the hostage-taker.  
"That simple-minded galoot? Certainly not. But one single conversation with him and his dreary wife was all it took for them to hunger for the prestige a visit of the Lord Chancellor and his wife at their autumn ball would grant them."  
Esteban snorted contemptuously.

Then, completely unpredictable, he turned his attention back to Catherine and barked at her. "Get up!"

When she didn't react immediately, the second man leaned down, grabbed her upper arm and pulled her up.  
"What are you trying to accomplish here?" Stephane asked, still trying to keep their attention away from his wife.

"A strong France, if that's what you're asking, Lord Narcisse. A France that is no longer subject to mockery or ridicule. Freed from childish and feeble Valois brats. Freed from greedy Medicis who have plunged my country into ruin.  
Don't get me wrong, I don't blame you, Lord Chancellor. You are trying to contain the damage, but it's about time that someone takes tough action."  
"You want to overturn the King," Stephane answered in understanding, but Esteban shook his head and a diabolical smile appeared on his face.

"No, we want to kill the King."

The cold determination of his words was terrifying. Slowly as if taking a leisure walk the dark-haired man walked over to Catherine.  
When he reached her, he wiped the blood from her lip with his index finger in an almost tender touch. Narcisse could read in his wife's mask-like mien that this action was pushing her to the limit of her self-control. He could only admire her for neither pushing away his hand nor flinching in pain.

"And if you don't want me to speviscerate your whore right in front of you to bleed out slowly, you'd better get Charles Valois here at this instant."

Esteban looked at Catherine's blood on his finger for a moment. Then he raised his hand to his lips and licked it off, his eyes closed with relish.


	37. Chapter 37

Stephane was fighting against an inner urge to strangle this dreadful man with his bare hands, for he dared to hurt his wife. He won't allow him to touch Catherine ever again.  
But he probably wouldn't even get close enough to this devil before his henchmen would grab him, before they would stab him with a blade between his ribs. Because these men were anything but squeamish.  
He kept thinking of Fabrice's motionless and bloodstained body near the door. His companion was very likely dead.

"And what exactly is my supposed role in your little plot?" Stephane asked, trying for a neutral tone.  
He wondered what exactly these traitors were up to? What would be their next step?  
The man assumed that Charles was staying with them in their chateau. But by the moment he and his men decided to search and take over the castle, their cover would be blown.

"I'm sure you'll come up with something clever to lure out your feeble-minded son-in-law without arousing suspicion. But I warn you, Lord Chancellor, you're better not pulling any tricks."

Esteban who had stepped behind Catherine in the meantime, gripped her neck with one hand to keep her still and then he let his other hand wander provocatively from her lower abdomen up to her breasts. All along looking Stephane straight in the eyes.  
And no matter how much Stephane tried to look indifferent, as soon as the other man's hands touched his wife, his blood began to boil.

"Oh, you're in love with this little harlot! What a lucky twist of fate that your lover happened to fall into my hands. Let me offer you a deal, Lord Chancellor. A deal that shouldn't be entirely unappealing for you. You give us Charles. Then you're going to write to your wife, informing her of the unfortunate death of her beloved son. I'm sure she'll hurry back in the blink of an eye. And now comes the part you're going to like: The Medici whore will die the minute she arrives, even before she realizes what's going on. I'll free you from the snares of this witch without you having to get your own hands dirty. You just have to cooperate."  
At the end of his speech, he violently pinched Catherine's right nipple, what caused her to cry out in pain.

Her reaction evoked a diabolical smile on the sadist's face.  
"Music to my ears," he whispered into her ear, his gaze still fixed on Stephane.  
"What makes you think that the Lord Chancellor of France will commit treason for you?" Catherine's question caused Stephane to inwardly groan. Provoking this madman even further was anything but conducive in his eyes and it only unnecessarily endangered her even more. At that moment, he cursed Catherine's ability of wearing her heart on her sleeve, though he adored and appreciated that idiosyncrasy under normal circumstances.

"You, my doll," Esteban whispered all the while brutally kneading her breast. Not to elicit a reaction from Catherine but her supposed lover. "Our Lord Chancellor will not risk us laying a finger on you or my friend fucking you properly, no matter how much he would like to do just that. Am I right, Lord Narcisse?"  
"Neither you nor he is going to touch her!", Stephane growled through clenched teeth and begged Catherine with an urgent glance to keep calm for heaven's sake in order not to provoke Esteban any further.

But it actually were his very own words that brought grist to the mills of the traitor, causing him to provocatively grab for his wife's crotch.

"You're not exactly giving me a reason not to. Who knows, maybe I'm also going to fuck her before I cut her to pieces. Do tell, is she a good lay? Certainly better than your frigid wife. At least she's prettier than that Medici whore."  
"That's enough. You've got yourself a deal!" Narcisse blurted out since he did not know how else to stop this monster from abusing his wife right before his eyes. And indeed, Esteban let go of Stephane's wife right away after hearing the other man's admission. A wolfish grin graced his face.  
"I always knew that you would listen to reason," he smirked.  
With a nod he instructed the sturdy man whose lustful eyes were still resting on Catherine to guard her. Then he signaled the Lord Chancellor to follow him.

Stephane gave his wife one last, almost desperate look and prayed silently for her inviolability. He didn't know how he would react, should one of these men harm his beloved wife during his absence.

But how long could they be stalled? Not too long, of that he was sure. And what was going to happen then? He would not and for sure could not turn the King of France in.  
And even if Charles would be present, Stephane would never be found guilty of treachery. Because Catherine would never forgive him if he took an active part in sacrificing her son.  
He needed a plan, and he needed it as quickly as possible.

"Don't take too long. Who knows how else we're going to pass our time during your absence." Esteban warned him, glaring at the other end of the aisle. Where his wife was standing.  
"I'm going to bring you Charles and meanwhile you're not going to touch the woman I love," Stephane growled short-temperedly.  
Then he pushed open the door.  
The two men who had discreetly remained in the background followed him. Without attracting their attention, the Lord Chancellor let his eyes gaze at the courtyard.  
The heavy rain had turned into a light drizzle and a shroud of mist had spread over his estate. He spotted a figure lying on the wet grass on the left hand side of the stables. This could only be either Philippe or Christian. They were probably as dead as Fabrice.

And while the Lord Chancellor was racking his brain in order to find a way out of his predicament, he heard a thunder of galloping hooves from afar. Alarmed, he spun around and peered into the opaque darkness.  
His two guards looked at each other in confusion while more men came running, staring down the mist-covered avenue in tense anticipation.

Then all of a sudden a cavalry unit with foreign coat of arms loomed largely in front of them and rushed towards the inner courtyard. Stephane spotted Rafael at the head of the army who steered his stallion towards the invaders.  
At the same moment his own remaining guards appeared, elicited by the turmoil outside.

The Lord Chancellor sent a silent prayer heavenwards and ran back to the stables. Surely the arrival of the reinforcement to their aid hadn't escaped Esteban's attention and Stephane didn't even want to imagine the things he would do to Catherine once he realized that he and his men were currently being overrun. There had been something malefic and incalculable in the other man's eyes. Something evil.


	38. Chapter 38

Strenuously Stephane pushed open the door to the stables and scanned the building for Catherine's whereabout.  
But before he could even take a step, a sharp blade was forcefully run into his right side.  
"I should have killed you right away!" Esteban spat at him and lunged at the Lord Chancellor.  
Quite obviously the other man had been expecting him.

The force of the impact tore the two opponents off their feet. Stephane ignored the burning pain emanating from his injured side and dodged the blade that darted down on him. He blindly palpated the ground in search of something to defend himself with.  
But Stephane grasped at nothing and the cold stare Esteban pierced him with seemed as sharp and deadly as his blade.

He was able to avoid being stabbed a second time at the very last second by rolling to the side with a groan until he bumped into a stall wall. His collision knocked over some devices that crashed on the fighting men on the ground.  
All of a sudden Stephane's fingers touched a wooden rod. With great presence of mind he raised the rod the moment the blade neared his face with deadly speed. Only then did he realize that the thing he was holding was a pitchfork.

Blazingly fast he turned the tool so that the tines pierced his attacker's chest. Stephane mobilized all his strength and pressed the pitchfork against his opponent. Breathing heavily he watched the tips of the prongs digging themselves into the other man's flesh until his shirt turned bloody.  
But before Stephane could free himself or push Esteban away, the other man rammed his dagger deeply into the flesh of his thigh, prompting Narcisse to cry out in pain.  
Esteban used this moment of pure agony to wrench the pitchfork - Stephane's only means of defense - out of his hand. The other man didn't even seem to notice his own injury in his delusion, his face was a grim mask of rage and vengeance.

"Say your prayer, Narcisse," Esteban whispered wickedly and Stephane saw the blade of the dagger flashing once again. Then the bloody blade slowly but steadily descended upon his upper body. Feeling the cold steel against his chest, the Lord Chancellor pressed his hands against his opponent body with the might of despair, but the other man had evoked a strengh an unarmed man could do nothing about.

Was this his last moment on earth? Was it time to make peace with his maker? But how could this be the end? Was a shared future with his wife to much to ask for? With the woman he had started not only to appreciate but had learned to love above all. The woman he wanted to grow old with.

And while Stephane Narcisse bemoaned his own fate and his approaching death, the other man's expression changed. His mien froze, then it altered from a manic grin to a look of surprise, followed by a pained expression.  
Then fresh blood seeped through his lips and dripped on Stephane's face.

With his last remaining strength he raised his elbow and rammed the dagger out of Esteban's hand. A split second later the other man collapsed on top of Stephane.  
Behind him, the face of his determined looking wife emerged, furiously pushing the other man away. In her hand she was holding a second, blood covered, familiar looking dagger. Was this Fabrice's weapon?

"Stephane!" Catherine uttered and sank to her knees next to him. "Are you all right? Please tell me you're alright," she begged breathlessly and seemed rather rattled.  
But what was alarming Narcisse the most were the tears that were running down her cheeks. Why was she crying?  
"Catherine! Did he hurt you, ma Belle?" He laboriously managed to ask and blinked up at her in fear.  
"What? No! It's you who's been hurt!"

"It's not that bad," he groaned but simply couldn't get tired of looking at her beautiful, tear-stained face.  
"She is the Medici whore!? You lied." A hateful hiss escaped Esteban's lips, who tried to straighten up with the power of his discovery.

Stephane jerked around. The sudden movement sparked a burning sensation in his side that made him moan. Nevertheless he crawled back to the other man and loomed over him threateningly. His face reflected both his pain and his thirst for revenge.  
"Nobody insults or threatens my wife, nor does he manhandle her with impunity and comes away with his pathetic life to tell the tale," Stephane angrily pressed out between his teeth and reached for the man's dagger.

"It seems you two deserve each other." Esteban whispered with lots of hatred in his raspy voice.  
"That might be the only thing we two agree upon," the Lord Chancellor answered with a lethal smile on his face that announced imminence. "But it's you who deserve to burn in hell."

Stephane gave the traitor no time for another reply. Instead, he lowered the dagger until the blade burried itself with deadly force in Esteban's chest.  
The man just stared at the couple wide-eyed. There was amazement in his eyes, as if he couldn't believe that all was coming to an end for him, here and now. On the dusty floor of a horse barn.  
Though it was still too good for this monster in Stephane's opinion.

Then he felt a hand on his shoulder. Without taking his eyes off the dying man, he reached for Catherine's fingers to acknowledge her gesture.  
"It's over," she whispered and Stephane finally looked up at his wife.

Her lower lip was bloody and swollen, as was her cheek and he could already detect the slight discoloration of a growing haematoma on her chin.  
But she was alive. Alive and breathing.  
And she was looking at him with her big, brown eyes. Eyes he threatened to loose himself inside if he keept staring at them.

She had saved his life. His beautiful, stubborn and unpredictable wife had saved his life. Despite all their differences, despite their constant struggle for power and her unwillingness to engage with this marriage, he had somehow and against all odds regained her loyalty.

"Ma Belle," he managed to say hoarsely but then came to a halt.  
"He's dead," she said softly and her words prompted him to turn his attention back to Esteban, whose empty and glassy eyes still stared at the ceiling.

Suddenly the door behind them was torn open and a dozen soldiers stormed into the stables.  
"Finally," Narcisse murmured, squeezing his wife's hand again.  
"Stephane? Catherine?" Rafael hurried towards them with his sword drawn. "How are you? Are you okay?"  
"We'll live," murmured the Lord Chancellor, getting up with his wife's help.

"What about the other guy?" He asked Catherine, remembering that Esteban wasn't the only one who had stayed with her.  
"Dead," was her curt answer and he thought he caught some satisfaction in her tone.

"Go to the tack room, that's where they held our stable master and the stable boy prisoner," the Queen Mother instructed the soldiers that accompanied her brother-in-law. One of them nodded and hurried along the stable aisle with two other men in order to free the captured men.

"Can you walk?" She wanted to know from her husband. Stephane waved her concern off with false pride but grimaced in pain immediately.  
Catherine's ironic answer came promptly.  
"Oh yes, I can see that."

She put an arm around his waist and nevertheless offered Stephane her support. However she couldn't help herself and shook her head in disbelief over his unreasonableness.


	39. Chapter 39

Out in the courtyard, a horrifying sight greeted them. Numerous dead bodies lay on the ground, struck down by powerful sword thrusts. The Queen Mother of France only spotted a few of them wearing their colours and fortunately the losses of the small private troop that had hurried to their rescue was limited as well.

Catherine led her husband to the parlour and immediately instructed their servants to bring her warm water and bandages.  
"You've arrived just in time. One minute later and I don't know what would have happened," she told her brother-in-law who helped Stephane sitting down, wearing a worried expression on his handsome face.  
"It took me some time convincing Fournier before he agreed to help us by sending his soldiers," the younger man explained and started unbuttoning his brother's bloodied shirt while Catherine franticly tried to scrub off the dried blood on her hands.

Both held their breath when they spotted the deep wound adoring Stephanes lower side, only to expel in relief when they realized that his injury looked rather painful but not lethal.  
"I had to decoy him with the prospect of a private audience with his King and Lord Chancellor," Rafael confessed.  
Catherine didn't even raise her eyes at this revelation but turned to her husband with a worried expression.  
"Then he shall get his private audience for all I care," she promised and tore at Stephane's trousers in order to examine his second wound as well.

"The artery seems to be unharmed," Catherine muttered out of relief while carefully wiping away the blood. "You're a very lucky man, Stephane."  
"I know. After all I choose you as my wife," her husband replied, looking at her with a mischievous grin.  
Catherine rolled with her eyes but could not suppress the timid smile that lay itself on her lips at this open display of his affection.  
"I wonder if you're running a fever, husband," she teased him and touched his forehead, but he felt neither hot nor feverish.

"You've saved my life." Stephane ignored her teasing tone but looked up at her with his big expressive eyes and an almost stunned look on his face.  
Catherine didn't understand what it was that left him so astonished. Could he possibly believe that she wouldn't save his live or abandon him to his grisly fate?  
"And if you don't keep still, all my efforts will be to no avail," she lovingly chided him when he flinched violently under her busy hands. She hadn't been able to stop the bleeding yet, but at least it had slightly eased.

After she had cleaned and disinfected the wounds the way Nostradamus had taught her, the Queen Mother dressed his injuries with compression bandages. Satisfied with the result she leaned down to Stephane and tenderly kissed her husband's forehead who stared at her in surprise.  
"I will go and check on John to make sure he's okay. Do you need anything else?"

Stephane, who caressed her cheek likewise gratefully and affectionately, simply shook his head.  
"Make sure he doesn't overexert himself," she instructed her brother-in-law before she left the room.

xxx

To her relief, the little boy didn't even seem to have noticed the turmoil but was deeply asleep in his crib while peacefully sucking on his thumb. Catherine took a moment and sat down next to him to just observe the blonde toddler.

She needed that quiet and peaceful moment to gather herself. Now that the adrenaline had left her body, she gradually realized how close they had been to certain death. Just the thought of seeing Esteban kneeling over Stephane, willing to murder her husband in cold blood, unintentionally caused goose bumps to rise all over her body.

But the worst part had been the split second when she hadn't known if she had stopped the man in time or if it was already too late for Stephane. An unknown yet paralyzing fear had been pulling at her heart and deprived her of the air she urgently needed to breathe. Stricken with terror, she had pushed Esteban from Stephane, while her heart had hammered wildly against her chest.  
Only when his eyes, widened by exhaustion and pain, stared back at her did she realize that her husband was still alive. This realization had brought tears to her eyes.

Tears of despair that gave way to tears of relief. At that moment she had realized that she still loved Stephane. Not just loved him – she was in love with him. Now more than ever.

"Oh my God, I love him," she said startled and hearing it aloud made the situation no less surreal for her. She had forbidden herself to give in to feelings of that kind ever again. But why did it feel so good and not the slightest bit wrong or terrible at all?

"Because he loves me as well," Catherine answered her own question, not doubting the accuracy of her conclusion for a second. Because Stephane had told her herself. But more importantly, he had showed it with so many conscious as well as unconscious gestures within in recent weeks. And even if she had felt the shadow of doubt until now, his words, glances and deeds in the stable had long since proven how deep and honest his feelings were for her. Perhaps now was the time to listen to her own feelings?


	40. Chapter 40

When Catherine returned to the salon after what seemed like an eternity to him, Stephane immediately saw some kind of change in her posture. But he couldn't quite put it into words.  
"Is everything okay, ma Belle?" he asked slightly alarmed. He doubted that John was the cause for her concern, otherwise she wouldn't seem as calm as she appeared. No, it had to be something else.  
"Of course, my dear. How are you feeling?" The smile she granted him with was brilliant. It let her brown eyes shine and warmed his heart.

"Much better, now that you're back," he replied smoothly and it wasn't even a lie. Her mere presence had indeed a positive effect on his well-being, of that he was sure.  
"You're a hopeless charmer," she chided him with a mild yet playful tone in her voice. Was Catherine actually flirting with him?

"I think it's time we call it a day," she said, but did not break the intense eye contact with her husband.  
His brother rose from his chair and wished them a good night. He seemed to feel the electric tension that had suddenly arisen between Catherine and Stephane and obviously wanted to give them some space.

When Raphael had left the room, Catherine approached him slowly and offered him her hand, on her lips a small and inviting smile.  
"Are you coming?"

There lay so much more both in that gesture and her words than he had ever wished or hoped for. An apology and likewise forgiveness, an offer of peace and the promise of a future together as a married couple.

And while he stared in fascination at the slender hand she offered him, still thinking about the importance of her gesture, she just stood there and waited patiently for him to react.  
Being completely bewitched by her soulful eyes, Stephane reached for her hand. He did not stand up immediately, but rather kissed each of her fingertips fondly. She didn't have to say another word for him to understand what Catherine was offering and how grateful he was for this opportunity. An opportunity he was eagerly willing to accept.  
"There's nothing I'd rather do," he whispered against the soft skin of her hand.

It was time for him to return.  
Return to their shared chambers and return to his wife.

So he let go of her fingertips only long enough to grab her hand and allowed his wife to help him back to his feet. He ignores the pain and the bothersome stiffness of his muscles as best as he could. Instead he concentrated on the pleasant warmth Catherine radiated and that slowly but steadily spread from his arm to the rest of his body.

Together they climbed the stairs leading up to their private chambers.  
Catherine pushed open the door and led him to the bed. With a suppressed groan Stephane slowly sat down and his wife looked down at him in concern.  
"Maybe we'd better send for a physician," she thought out loud and watched him more closely.  
"I'm fine, ma Belle," he hurried to assure her and once again reached for her hand.  
"No, you're not," she objected vehemently and an overly worried and very familiar expression lay itself on her finely chiselled features.  
An expression he had last seen when she had desperately watched over her dying son.  
An expression he never wanted to ever see again.

"Okay, maybe I'm in a bit of pain, but a physician could do nothing more than what you've already done, Catherine. What I need is my own comfortable bed, some sleep and my wife by my side. Preferably naked." Stephane raised his eyebrow and winked seductively at her. Then he grabbed her arm and pulled her in his direction.  
"Stephane", even though she tried to sound strict, he detected a tiny smile on her lips that slowly wided.  
"What? I'm sure the latter would be very beneficial for my recovery." Stephane couldn't resist the urge to tease his wife a little.

"You're impossible," she chided him mildly with a loving undertone and gently freed herself from his grip. Then she went to the dressing room and returned with their nightclothes and robes.  
"Guilty as charged, I guess." Stephane replied and watched her peeling down the torn trousers. Without further comment she helped him with his nightshirt.

Only when he let himself fall back into the countless pillows at her behest did Catherine turn away and began undressing herself. Stephen's eyes followed her every movement in fascination.  
When she was left wearing only her tightly laced corset and a sheer chemise underneath, Catherine struggled to loosen the cords with her arms twisted backwards, the Lord Chancellor straightened up again in their bed.  
"Come here." Not an order, but rather an offer that Catherine willingly accepted.

The moment she sat down next to him, his hands immediately began to loosen her corsage. When he was finished, Stephane gently stopped her from rising again and let his hands wander over her neck to caress her tender skin instead.  
"Mhm," a throaty, sexy sound escaped Catherine's throat when he touched a particularly sensitive spot that send all his remaining blood to his southern region. When hearing this sound, the Lord Chancellor could no longer contain himself and spontaneously pulled her into his arms.

His sudden movement triggered a new wave of pain in his side that ebbed away rather quickly since he already was eagerly kissing his wife.  
"Stephane", she mumbled after a few seconds against his lips and interrupted their kiss. "This is a bad idea."  
"No, this is actually a brilliant idea, darling," Stephane disagreed and reached for Catherine's chin to pull her closer until the tip of his nose touched hers.  
"You're hurt," she reminded him, her warm breath caressing his skin.  
"And your mere presence takes away my pain." Stephane tenderly embraced her face and looked deeply into his wife's eyes. Her pupiles were dilated and reflected a renowned passion.

"Giving in would be unreasonable," Catherine murmured before her lips sought his once again.  
"Then let's be unreasonable. Right now there's only one thing I want, ma Belle. And that's you."  
Catherine laid her hands on his chest and surprised him by gently but firmly pushing him back into the pillows.  
"Fine, Stephane. But I don't want you to overexert yourself. Let me be the one doing all the work, okay?" Her insisting gaze tolerated no opposition, so he just nodded in agreement. There were worse fates than his.  
His wife rewarded him with her most beautiful smile and bent down to kiss him.

When it was almost impossible for him to control his desire, his hands began to wander. Burning with passion, Stephane intensified their kiss. His teeth eagerly started nibbling at her lower lip, prompting Catherine to wince. But what alarmed him most was a low and suppressed sound of pain that escaped her throat.  
"Catherine," he asked worriedly, watching his wife intently who was running her index finger over her swollen lip and straightened up.

This movement drew his attention to her bare breasts, gently swinging from one side to the other. But that brief glance was enough to notice the giant bruise that adorned her right breast.  
"Oh ma Belle," he whispered in shock. How could he have forgotten that not only he but also Catherine had been injured?  
And like the insensitive fool he was he had even bitten her already maltreated lip.  
"We don't necessarily have to..." he left the rest of his sentence unspoken.

"It's okay, just be gentle." His wife, who seemed to have other things in mind, reduced the distance between them and gently run her nails over Stephane's well-toned chest.  
"My beloved, it's not okay if I have to fear causing you even more pain." Like before in the salon, Stepahne reached for Catherine's hand and kissed her fingertips. "We have all the time in the world." He would never forgive himself if she came to further harm by his own inattention.

But she unexpectedly and harshly freed herself from his grip and rose again. The look that Catherine de Medici threw his way was deathly.  
"What," he asked in amazement, trying to put himself in an upright position as well. But his wife pushed him back into the pillows.  
"What is wrong with you men and your damn double standards? How can you so easily brush off my concern for your well-being and at the same time mime the worried spouse on my behalf?" The wrathful expression in her dark eyes was breathtakingly beautiful and alarming at the same time.

Stephane decided to ignore her threatening gaze and stood up as well in pain.  
"There you have it" Catherine hissed angrily.  
"You can't compare one with the other," he tried to appease her, but rather achieved the opposite.  
"Exactly, Stephane. You were stabbed. Twice. I only have bruises and a split lip. You're doing it again. You put your needs above mine." He watched Catherine talking herself into rage and reached for her hand.  
"That's only because I love you and I want to protect you. Your well-being is more important to me than my own health," he explained and put all his feelings and power of persuasion into this statement.  
"And what do you think it is that I'm doing?" his wife shouted at him in rage.

"You tell me, Catherine! Because I don't know. You're nothing short of a riddle wrapped up in an enigma for me." Now the Lord Chancellor had also raised his voice.  
"I cannot believe that you even got to ask me that! I love you, you ignorant ass, probably more than you deserve and more than is good for me". His wife spit those words literally into his face, but despite her anger, all Stephane realized was her declaration of love.

He dumbly repeated "You love me?", still feeling stunned, while her words unleash a tremendous storm of emotion inside his rapidly beating heart.  
He hadn't thought that her feelings for him could possibly arouse again, and he certainly hadn't expected Catherine to verbalize them. Not after all the things that had happened between them.

"Against all common sense, but yes." Catherine sounded almost angry about it and elicited an amused laugh from her husband with her reluctant confession. By the way her eyes darkened, he realized that she was about to raise her inner walls again because of his reaction, so he pulled her into his arms and kissed her affectionately.  
"That's probably the most wonderful thing I've ever heard, ma Belle," he whispered a moment later once he had released her lips.

"The most wonderful thing?" Catherine's right eyebrow shot up, and she carefully appraised him. "More wonderful than your nomination as Lord Chancellor? More wonderful than..." She didn't get any further, because Stephane wrapped her body into his arms and stopped her verbiage with another kiss.  
"More wonderful than anything I've ever experienced so far. Come, lie with me." He slowly sank down on the matress and patted the vacant spot on their bed, smiling contentedly when Catherine glided pliantly under the covers next to him.

Carefully he put his arm around her narrow waist and pulled her closer to inhale her well known and terribly missed scent while enjoying the combined warmth of their bodies. Stephane bent down to her and placed a loving kiss on her forehead. Then he put some distance between them in order to look at his wife more insistently.

Her warm, hazel eyes stared back at him and the intensity he spotted there spoke volumes and made words completely superfluous.  
At this moment he didn't need anything else in his life.  
Their mere closeness, the love they felt for each other and the prospect of a future together was enough to make Stephane Narcisse the happiest man in the world. Someday later in the near futre, after their physical as well as their inner wounds have healed, there would still be enough time for making love with his beautiful wife. Extensively and without any restraints left. But until then it was enough to just hold her in his arms.


	41. Chapter 41

"May your love help you endure the other in difficult times. May your love help you – with ties of peace - to preserve your unity in spirit and heart".  
The bishop's words echoed from the high walls of the throne room that served as a festively decorated wedding hall on this joyful day.

The smile that graced Catherine's lips since the beginning of the ceremony got even wider when her husband grabbed her hand and raised it to his lips in order to kiss her knuckles. She granted him this liberty, actually enjoyed his display of affection and ignored that little hortative voice warning her that this very public display was entirely inappropriate, especially since this was not their own but her daughter's wedding. But it felt too good, too right, to deny herself this tiny sentiment of joy.

For a brief moment the Queen Mother cut her eyes loose from bride and groom and peered up at Stephane who on his part looked at her in such an intense way that made her knees go week. Before she could lose herself in his soulful eyes, Catherine turned her attention back to the ceremony taking place in front of them, while her husband slowly lowered their intertwined hands but tenaciously declined to release her fingers.

At the end of the wedding, the elderly bishop asked bride and groom to seal their bond of matrimony with a kiss and Catherine sighed heavily, feeling deeply moved by the sight of her new son-in-law who lovingly caressed Claude's cheek before claiming her lips in a tender kiss.

"I suppose I am now deeply indebted to you?", she asked her husband in a whisper. Stephane turned his attention from the happy couple to his wife once again and questioningly looked down at her.  
"I don't know what for, but I'm sure I can come up with various ways for you to express your gratitude," Stephane answered with a wicked smile on his face and fondled her hand in an intimate way.  
"I just bet you do," she replied in the most neutral tone she could utter, already feeling a joyful excitement crawling up her spine that treacherously reddened her cheeks. Catherine forced herself to turn her attention back to the couple on the gallery, ignoring the tingling sensation between her legs.

"Claude looks happy. They both look happy," she said, watching bride and groom separating and looking deeply into each other's eyes. Eyes that were transfigured with love.  
"It requires intestine magnitude to deviate from an already made decision and to support such a rather unpopular and certainly financial unwise connection." Catherine took up Stephane's giving-in concerning the wedding plans he had for Princess Claude.

"It's you, my dear, who taught me that sometimes unpopular decisions are required, ma Belle. Our marriage is also rather unconventional. And look how this sacred bond turned out. I probably thought that maybe Claude and Leith are also one of those couples, that fit together in a perfect imperfect way." To underline his words, Stephane put his arm around Catherine's waist. "Just like you and me," he added quietly and his breath grazed Catherine's neck.

"Oh, you think so?" she tried for a neutral tone but wasn't able to suppress the broad grin that threatened to lie itself upon her lips.  
"Indeed, darling," the Lord Chancellor of France replied smugly and drew his wife even closer.

Together the older couple watched Claude and Leith walking arm in arm through the range of the guests, being showered with congratulations. This connection was perceived as scandalous by many nobles and had attracted a large number of curious guests who now paid their questionable respect to bride and groom.

It took them a few minutes before Catherine was finally able to wrap her daughter in a maternal embrace.  
Her beautiful girl was liturally beaming brighter than the sun on this special day. The Queen Mother couldn't remember ever seing her feisty rantipole radiate such happiness and joy.  
Even Stephane pulled his stepdaughter into a paternal embrace, while Catherine kissed her son-in-law on his cheeks.

"Thank you, Maman." Quite unexpectedly Catherine found herself being hugged a second time.  
An expression of surprise flashed over Catherine's delicate features. It's been ages since her daughter had last called her that.  
"What for, my child?" she asked and had to fight her uprising emotions.  
"For the happiest day in my life." Claude's knowing glance revealed that she knew very well about her mother's role in making this marriage happen.  
"As long as you're happy, then so am I." Catherine kissed her daughter's forehead and watched her being swallowed by the crowd a minute later.

Catherine enjoyed the ongoing festivities at the side of her husband who was showering her with mindful attention and behaved remarkably gallant. And contrary to all her expectations, it felt unexpectedly good to be publicly perceived as Stephane Narcisse's wife.

For unlike her late husband Henry Valois, Stephane made her feel like being an equal part in their union. The Lord Chancellor not only appreciated her opinion, he regularly consulted and involved her regarding affairs of state. And as distinguished from Henry, she felt loved as well as desired by Stephane.

They had returned to French court four months ago together with her sons Charles and Henri, who had hurried to the side of his troubled brother. And ever since their return not only her relationship with Stephane but also with her children had improved significantly.

Charles had found his much-needed rest and savingness behind the sacred walls of the monastery. When she had been greeted by this endearing and gentle boy of former times at their reunion, tears of relief and joy had gathered in the corner of her eyes.

And while Catherine was thinking about her son's recovery, the young King of France approached her as if he'd guessed her reflections.  
"Mother, Claude and Leith are about to open the dancefloor with their wedding dance."  
The queen mother nodded thoughtfully and smilingly looked up at Charles, who rewarded her with an equally affectionate smile. A reaction she wasn't used to and still amazed her.

"I would be delighted if you'd honor me with the second dance of the evening, Maman." With a solemn gesture the King offered her his hand. A hand Catherine gratefully accepted after pausing for a brief moment to collect herself.  
"Don't worry, Narcisse, you'll get her back." With these words Charles led his mother to the verge of the dance floor. After a short nod towards his sister, the musicians started to play a likewise slow and romantic song.

At the side of her son Catherine watched the bridal couple. Both Claude and Leith were visibly in love and floated through the room in complete harmony.  
The moment the music slowly faded away and merged into a new, faster song, Charles led her to the dance floor.

And while the former Queen of France was dancing with her son, she let her gaze wander from her perfectly happy daughter to Stephane, her husband who for his part looked at her with that warm, loving smile. And all of a sudden Catherine realized that happiness was a thing queens might be able to have after all.

The END


End file.
